


Name-Calling

by Lost_And_Longing



Series: Parental!RoyEd Fics [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Edward Elric Has Issues, Gen, Guilt, Humor, Hurt Edward Elric, Hurt Roy Mustang, Hurt/Comfort, Ishval Civil War, Parental Roy Mustang, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, because he's definitely tsundere, tsundere Edward Elric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_And_Longing/pseuds/Lost_And_Longing
Summary: From the start, Roy Mustang had always believed in Edward Elric. Even after he'd learned the horrific story of their attempt at human transmutation, Mustang had just looked at Ed and offered him a chance. He'd come when Ed was despondent, weak, and helpless...and offered him a way out.Maybe that was why, out of all the men Ed knew, Roy was the closest thing he'd ever had to a father.5 + 1 things, but Ed's names for Roy. Parental!RoyEd.
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Series: Parental!RoyEd Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699897
Comments: 98
Kudos: 862
Collections: Fullmetal_Alquimist_myfanfic





	1. Chapter 1

_Colonel_

For Ed, before Roy was anything - even before the word "bastard" first passed Ed's lips in regards to Roy - before Roy was anything else, he was Colonel Roy Mustang, officer of the Amestrian State Military.

Ed's first impression of the man was exactly that, except replace "Colonel" with "Lieutenant Colonel" - yes Ed knew military ranks, thank you very much, he was _not_ an idiot.

He'd been sitting in that damn wheelchair, Al beside him, in silence. Al had wheeled him next to a window that opened up to the rolling hills of Resembool. Al was almost as quiet as he, only occasionally breaking the silence with fatuous remarks about sheep and sunlight and a butterfly that had just fluttered past the windowpane. Ed barely heard. It was hard to focus on anything past the nauseating pain in his stumps - _stumps, fuck, he was ten years old and had fucking stumps -_ and the churning, sickening guilt in what remained of his body.

More than anything, Ed wanted to throw up. He'd done it more in the past weeks than he knew was possible, yet the act of throwing up only left him feeling wrung-out and dirty. He'd cried those first few nights out of sheer horror and anguish, but those tears had eventually dried. The overwhelming terror he'd felt from the Gate was receding, albeit slowly. Even the pain of his - _damn,_ his stumps had begun to lessen. Yet the guilt never died.

He saw them when they were still more than a quarter of a mile away from the house: two blue-clad figures, tall and upright, moving quickly. The guilt inside him, the guilt that was the abomination he had made, that reached its inhuman claws to him in supplication, that guilt whispered that they had seen it. They had seen the house, the circle, the remains of the thing Ed had made. That guilt whispered that his reckoning was coming.

The anger inside him - small, barely a spark, but still living - retorted that his reckoning had already passed.

He watched with dull eyes as they came closer. His too-light body felt heavier and heavier. The one in the lead, a man, held an expression of absolute fury. His steps were brisk and forceful and he walked as though he had not the slightest concern as to whether his companion could keep up. Said companion, a woman, was tense and wary but not angry. 

Ed thought she should be. He deserved it.

They knocked on the door. Al said nothing, but he turned Ed towards it.

The door slammed against the wall, echoes ricocheting in the still air. The man shoved past Pinako, stormed towards Ed and Al, and seized Ed by the shirt. "We went to your house. We saw the floor. What was that? What did you do?"

Ed said nothing. The man's - a lieutenant colonel, Ed realized dully as he dropped his gaze to the man's shoulder - voice was loud, strident. Ed couldn't find it in himself to be afraid, though he realized he should be. Here was a military officer who'd broken into his house, grabbed him, and demanded to be told the truth about Ed's attempt at human transmutation, the greatest taboo of alchemy. 

Two metal gauntlets set themselves on the lieutenant colonel's arm. Al. Doing what he always did: mediating, placating, trying to save Ed from the punishment he deserved. He'd done the same thing that night, when Ed had crawled all the way to Pinako's house and told her everything. 

(The trail of blood leading from their house to Pinako's was still there. Ed saw it every time he looked out the window.)

"We're sorry," Al said softly. Ed closed his eyes and imagined Al's warm hands against the lieutenant colonel's sleeve, his gold eyes tearing up. Then he opened them and saw cold, grey, empty metal. "We didn't mean it."

The man's grip on Ed loosened. Al kept going, spewing the same apologies he'd been murmuring for days now. Ed had heard the words so often they were meaningless now.

"Wait..." the man said softly, leaning forward to examine Al more closely. "Are you...?"

Pinako came in before the man could continue, but Al had already turned away, head low in shame. The sight was almost enough to puncture the suffocating despondency that had rendered Ed silent ever since that night. 

"Get your hands off my boys!" she snapped. "The nerve of you military people! You break into my house without a warrant, manhandle a child, and scream in his face? You should be ashamed!"

The woman had come forward with Pinako and was now hovering in the back. Her posture was rigid, her eyes flicking between everyone in the room guardedly. Winry had appeared now and stood just in Ed's view. She and Ed had a brief second of eye contact before she looked away, lips pinched and fearful. 

The lieutenant colonel released Ed more gently than how he'd picked him up and turned to Pinako. "The house we were told was the Elrics' house had a transmutation circle covered in blood. That gave us cause to suspect criminal proceedings. We can take both of them in for questioning, or you can tell us here, now. Which will it be?"

Al stepped forward before Pinako could respond. "Lieutenant Colonel, sir, we'll tell you. Just please... please, please don't blame my brother."

"I..." the man seemed taken aback. "Edward Elric? Or Alphonse?"

"Alphonse, sir."

"Right. Alphonse, then. I'll hear your story, then I'll decide who, if anyone, should be blamed for this." The man's gaze locked onto Ed's. He felt the weight of it and swallowed. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, also known as the Flame Alchemist." He flashed a shiny silver pocket-watch as confirmation - the State Alchemists' badge of office. "I think this is a conversation that should be had sitting down."

Pinako nodded heavily and turned to lead them to the table. Ed saw the woman lead Winry away from the room, probably to give them privacy. Good. Winry didn't need to hear this. She'd seen enough. She'd heard enough.

"Right this way."

Mustang sat first with all the stiff decorum of an officer. Pinako sat across from him, leaving Ed with no choice but to let himself be wheeled in between them. Al didn't sit - they hadn't found a chair big enough for him yet, and Al insisted he didn't get tired anymore.

Perhaps others would've found that a blessing, but Ed knew it was yet another curse he'd heaped onto his brother. Maybe Al couldn't get tired, but he also couldn't rest. Maybe Al couldn't get hungry, but he also couldn't eat. Maybe Al couldn't get hot, or cold, or thirsty, or sick, but neither could he be warm and content and _well._

Ed had taken some of the bad from his brother, but he'd also taken every drop of good.

"So," Mustang said. "Start from the beginning. Why did you draw that circle? What was it supposed to do? Why is there... _blood_ on it? And why is Alphonse an empty suit of armor?"

Al gasped. Ed felt nothing. He should've expected the man to guess. He was an alchemist, just like they were. More than that, he was a State Alchemist - more than that, the Flame Alchemist. He, along with the Crimson Alchemist and a few others, had been venerated for their efforts in the Ishvalan War. Of course Mustang would notice such things.

"Brother?"

Ed didn't respond. 

Apparently realizing he wouldn't get Ed to break his silence today, Al gave a sound like a sigh - _not_ an actual sigh, not the real thing, not anymore - and began the tale. About their mother's death, about how Ed had raised him, about how they'd learned alchemy for one goal. To bring their mother back.

As soon as the words left Al, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang stiffened. Ed looked up from the table and felt a sense of grim satisfaction. There was the horror he'd been expecting. Now the condemnation was sure to follow. Ed welcomed it. He deserved it.

"That circle... I had my suspicions, but now... it was a human transmutation circle, wasn't it? You actually tried to bring her back."

There was such an utter silence.

"Yes," Al finally said, defeated. Guilty. All emotions that belonged to Ed, not Al. It wasn't Al's fault he was like that. It was Ed's. "We thought... we thought we'd gotten it right. We didn't know - we didn't realize what... what we were doing. We knew it was forbidden but we didn't know why. We didn't know it was- that we were-"

Al's trembling voice faded into that heavy, oppressive silence. 

"What happened?" Mustang finally asked. 

Ed looked up. Mustang's eyes were on Al, not Ed, but they weren't condemning. Ed wasn't sure what they were.

He felt... disappointed. The guilt inside him demanded punishment.

"I-I'm not sure," Al said. "We activated the circle together. It wasn't long until we realized something was wrong. There was something _awful_ looking back at us. I remember screaming, and then... nothing. That's when I lost my body."

"The toll," Mustang said contemplatively. "Human transmutation always exacts a toll, and for you it was your entire body. For Ed, it was his arm and his leg?"

"...No," Al said. "Just the leg."

Ed wondered if Al ever thought about how unfair it was that he'd lost his entire body to the transmutation, and Ed only one limb. He wondered how much Al hated him for it. 

"Just the leg? Then...?"

There was metallic clinking from behind Ed. He knew it must be Al taking off his head - no, the helmet of the armor he was bonded to. Mustang gaped, clearly seeing the blood rune.

"Brother sacrificed his arm to bind my soul to this armor," Al said. Again Ed heard guilt. He hated it. "I can't feel or taste or smell... but my soul is still here. And it's all because of him. So please don't blame him for this. He didn't - we didn't know, and Brother's suffered horribly for it."

 _Me?_ Ed thought, the spark of anger inside of him glowing. _I've suffered? What about you, Al? You don't even have a body and it's all my fault! Look at that lieutenant colonel, Al, look at him! He knows the truth, too! He knows whose fault it really is!_

But Mustang's face was expressionless. He released a breath, the only sign of tension he'd given, and said, "This is a surprise, to say the least. I'd heard reports that there was a brilliant alchemist living in this town, so I came to check them out. The last thing I expected to find was a boy skilled enough to attempt human transmutation-"

 _Ha! See, Al, he knows_ I'm _the one who should be blamed, I'm the one who did it!_

"-or advanced enough to bond a soul to a suit of armor. I'd say he's more than qualified to become a State Alchemist."

Ed's breath paused.

Was Mustang... offering...?

"Should he choose to accept the position," Mustang continued, glancing at Pinako, "he'll be required to serve the military in times of national emergency. In return, he'll receive privileges and access to otherwise restricted research materials. Given time, they may be able to find a way to get their bodies back, or even more."

Everything - his guilt, the agony in his body, the suffocating numbness he was enshrouded in - vanished. He looked up and found Mustang staring at him. For the first time, Ed met his gaze.

Pinako was talking. Ed didn't listen. He knew what it was: the overbearing hag trying to protect him, railing against alchemy like she had been for weeks now. He only looked at Mustang, and the man only looked back. When Pinako finished, his eyes were still squarely on Ed's. 

They still held no trace of condemnation.

"I'm not forcing you," Mustang said. "I'm merely offering you the possibility. Will you sit in that chair, wallowing in self-pity, or will you stand up and seize the chance the military can give you? If you believe the possibility exists for getting your bodies back, you should seek it out, keep moving, whatever it takes. Even if the way ahead lies through a river of mud."

The spark inside Ed flickered. Then it burst into flame.

Mustang looked at him for a second more and nodded. A strange understanding passed between the two of them. The man stood then, and turned.

And left.

Ed watched him go, felt that feeble spark inside him grow brighter and brighter every second.

He didn't know why the condemnation he'd expected from Mustang wasn't there. He didn't know why Mustang had given him a chance. But he had. And Ed vowed he would not squander it.

As the door clicked shut, Ed looked at Al. "I'm going to get your body back, Al. I promise." 

* * *

It took one year before Ed began to fulfill that promise.

It also took one year before Ed spoke his first words to Mustang.

He had gone through the agony of automail surgery and the endless months of rehabilitation all for this. For this moment as he strode into Eastern Command to take the State Alchemy Exam. His shoulder and leg ports ached, but for once he barely felt it. Once he passed the test he could finally make good on his promise to get Al's body back. Nothing else mattered.

Ed strode down the corridor with single-minded purpose, heedless of the soldiers' gawking. This was the one day he would not let himself be distracted. He didn't care if they stared. He didn't even care if they called him short! For once, Ed would not let himself be distracted.

"Oh, is that you, Elric? I almost didn't see you down there."

...Never mind.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A MITE OF DUST SO SMALL YOU WOULDN'T EVEN CLEAN YOUR HOUSE OF IT?"

Ed spun around to see-

Oh. He was so used to trading insults with Pinako that the sight of a different, not-quite-familiar face was off-putting. It was the man who'd first given him the offer to become a State Alchemist. Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang.

Ed took a cursory glance at the man's uniform and edited the thought. _Colonel_ Roy Mustang. Damn, the man had been busy in the past year.

"Ah, Colonel," Ed said with as much ease and familiarity as if he were talking to a childhood friend. "Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, didn't you?"

The colonel gave a smug smirk. "I knew you'd come. It was only a matter of time. I admit, it definitely took a... _shorter_ amount of time than I was expecting, though."

Ed's eye twitched. 

"I'm assuming you know where the exam will be held?" Mustang questioned.

Ed grinned. "Damn right I do."

Mustang didn't even raise an eyebrow at Ed's language. That automatically earned him points. Maybe, despite the short jokes, this Colonel guy wasn't half bad. Ed was sick of adults telling him he shouldn't use "adult language" because he was a child. He bet they wouldn't say that if he were taller!

Instead, the man returned Ed's grin with a smile of his own. "Good. I'll be watching. Don't make me regret giving you this chance."

"Regret?" Ed scoffed. "You'll be thanking _me_ for taking you up on it by the end of today!"

"Is that so? Well, assuming I can even find you-"

"I'M NOT SO SHORT I'M COMPLETELY SWALLOWED UP BY A CROWD AND CAN'T EVEN BE FOUND BEFORE I'M TRAMPLED TO DEATH!"

Mustang just chuckled and walked away. "I'll see you there, Elric."

Ed took back everything he'd said about how nice the guy was. Colonel Roy Mustang was an absolute _bastard._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dark themes and graphic depictions of violence regarding the Ishvalan War. It starts near the end of the chapter. If that's something you'd rather not read, be forewarned.

_Hero of Ishval_

The first and only time Ed called Roy Mustang the Hero of Ishval, he regretted it immediately.

It all started with Mustang's strange insistence to accompany Ed on a mission out in the Eastern Area. Some small town or other had had reports of civil unrest and violence, mostly coming from the town's ghetto. For whatever reason, the bastard had decided to shove the mission off on Ed. And as if that weren't bad enough, he'd also decided to come with him.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Ed scowled at him from his seat on Mustang's couch. He was thirteen, dammit! Almost fourteen! "I'm not a child!"

Mustang eyed him from behind his desk, expression infuriatingly placid. "I'm sorry, all I heard was a bunch of prepubescent squeaking. Try again?"

Prepubescent-!

Ed launched himself out of the chair. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL THAT-"

"In any case," Mustang continued, as though Ed's outburst held the same importance as an irritating mosquito buzzing about him, "there have been rumors about that town I would like to investigate for myself. Particularly since _your_ reports tend not to be very detailed, Fullmetal."

"Maybe if you didn't keep throwing all these boring missions at me, I'd have something interesting to report!" Ed snapped. In the year, nearly two years, he'd been working for Mustang, he'd barely been given any leads towards getting Al's body back. Every ten missions, if he were lucky, held a potential lead. Ed was getting sick of it.

...Okay, maybe that was being unfair. Every five, maybe.

...Three?

Alright, fine. For all that Mustang claimed Ed was nothing but a dog of the military, the man didn't actually treat him like it that often. Usually he only gave Ed missions like this when the rest of his team was busy. Still, that didn't mean Ed had to be happy about the damn thing.

Mustang rolled his eyes and clearly decided to ignore Ed's last remark. "We'll be leaving at 0700 sharp tomorrow morning. You're dismissed, Fullmetal."

Ed glared, not moving. "Are you not even going to tell me why we're going there?"

"I've already told you," Mustang said. "There have been rumors of-"

"I heard you the first time, bastard," Ed snapped, "and I don't believe it any more the second time around. 'Rumors'? No rumor would get _your_ lazy ass out of Eastern Command and onto the field. Tell me what's going on!"

Mustang's face was set and unreadable like a deadlocked door. "I believe that's below your pay-grade to know, Fullmetal."

"So there is something...I knew it! Now tell me!"

Ed shifted forward, staring at Mustang determinedly. This was another thing he'd become used to in the time he'd worked with the Colonel. Rarely, if ever, did the man give him any information other than the bare minimum to get the job done. Sometimes he wouldn't even give Ed that much, expecting him to figure it out on his own. It was infuriating. Ed was certain Mustang didn't treat any of his team like that, which meant Ed was different. Ed didn't belong.

Now, Ed didn't want to belong to the military. Far from it, in fact. He knew he didn't fit in there and was glad of it. But Mustang's insistence on treating him differently from his _real_ team members - more than that, his insistence on never even telling Ed the bare minimum of pertinent information - that stung. It was patronizing, but more than that, it said that Mustang simply did not trust him. It said that Ed was not worthy of Mustang's trust, or regard, or even attention.

And maybe that wouldn't have mattered, except that _the_ bastard, damn Hohenheim himself, had thought the exact same thing. 

Back to reality, Mustang, the not-quite-so-bad bastard just stared at Ed, unmoved. After several seconds of this Mustang seemed to think he had won. "Oh, I should mention. Al will not be coming with us, either."

For once in his life, Edward Elric was rendered speechless. The idea of Mustang suggesting - no, _commanding -_ that Al not come with him was so patently absurd it took him several long seconds to process it.

"I'm...sorry?"

"On the mission," Mustang said, as though Ed were stupid. Which he was _not._ "The last thing we need is to bring a hulking suit of armor into a town that already distrusts the military. Not to mention what would happen if they found out what your brother actually is."

"How dare you say that about my brother?!"

Mustang sighed. "Look, Fullmetal. I know there are many things you'd rather do than go on a mission like this without your brother and with your commanding officer as your only company-"

"Damn right-"

"But I'm not changing my mind. You will be coming with me and your brother will not. That's an order. Do you understand?"

Ed scowled. One look at the man confirmed what he'd said: Mustang would not budge. Ed had no choice but to grit his teeth and get through this. "Perfectly, Colonel Bastard."

He put extra emphasis on _bastard,_ gave said bastard one last cutting glare, and stalked out of the room.

* * *

The town seemed pretty normal as far as Ed was concerned. It was bigger than Resembool - although what town wasn't, really - but still small enough not to give Ed the distinctly cramped feeling he got whenever he went to anything remotely as big as East City, or heaven forbid, Central City. Sure, the townsfolk gave more than their share of unwelcoming and wary stares to Ed and Mustang, but Ed figured it was just because Mustang was a colonel. People didn't tend to like the military in their homes. 

Yet another reason Ed wished Mustang weren't here. Unfortunately, there was nothing _he_ could do about that. Damn bastard colonel. 

The initial investigations passed smoothly enough, not counting the stares boring into Ed's back that grew more and more unsettling the longer they went on. Once he and Mustang had gotten to their hotel room - yes, _room,_ apparently the manager had charged such an exorbitant price Mustang had only been able to buy one - Ed finally snapped.

"What the hell is their problem!?"

"Whose problem?" Mustang inquired calmly, neatly folding his uniform and setting it down on a chair. He'd changed out of his street clothes, as had Ed. "I know your memory's rather short, but-

Ed growled. "I am _not_ a grain of salt so small you can't even taste it!"

Mustang raised an eyebrow. "Where do you even come up with these?"

"None of your business, you-"

"If you mean the townspeople," Mustang interrupted, sitting down on his bed - and thank God for small mercies that the room at least had two beds - "I rather think they don't like the military."

Ed stared at him. Mustang stared back.

Ed noted how odd it was to see Mustang out of his uniform. Instead, he was wearing...pajamas? That's what Ed guessed the black slacks and white shirt were supposed to be, but they looked more like everyday clothing than pajamas. Did the man not own actual pajamas? 

"Seriously?"

"Mmm. I know it can be quite difficult for you to realize that some people might not like you-"

"No, not that, you bastard! I mean, why don't they like the military? What did we ever do to them?"

Mustang's eyes went cold. They went so cold, so quickly, that for the first time Ed saw how such a young man had risen so far up the ranks of the military. "The correct question, Fullmetal, is what _haven't_ we done to them."

Ed stared at the colonel, confused. "What...what do you mean?"

Mustang opened his mouth but before he spoke, something shifted in his eyes. The cold seemed to melt out of them and just like that, he was Ed's infuriating superior once more. "Nothing important, Fullmetal. Nothing important. Now go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us."

Ed went to speak, but for the second time in as many days, stopped. Mustang looked as unyielding as he had the day before, but something had changed. Now, he still looked unyielding. But more than that, he looked...

"Okay. Goodnight, Colonel."

He looked like Ed did every time he looked into a mirror.

Guilty.

"Goodnight, Fullmetal. See you in the morning."

The light flickered out and the room went dark. Ed curled into a ball on his bed and tried his best to bury the memories that Mustang's eyes had dredged up inside him.

He failed.

* * *

The next morning, Ed and Mustang headed over to the town's ghetto as soon as the sun rose, much to Ed's chagrin. He was a growing _(not_ short) boy, he needed his beauty sleep! Mustang didn't even let him redo his customary braid, practically dragging him out of bed and shoving him out the door. 

"Hey! I haven't even eaten breakfast!"

"Maybe if you'd woken up when I told you to, you would've had time to eat," Mustang said, smirking at him. "Unfortunately, it seems like you just aren't mature enough to wake up on your own."

"Say that again, you bastard! I dare you!" 

Mustang rolled his eyes, straightening his coat collar as they strode down the steps of the hotel and into the street. "Come along, Fullmetal. We don't have all day."

Grumbling, Ed followed him, blinking blearily as the morning sun pierced the day with its usual unforgiving ferocity. 

As the pair walked, Ed once again felt the townspeople's stares drill into him. They felt even worse than the day before: warier, even hostile. Ed's first instinct was to turn and scream at them, but one warning glare from Mustang stopped him. Instead, Ed was left to jam his hands into his coat pockets and glare fixedly ahead of him.

Several minutes passed. Ed watched as the pristine, neatly-kept buildings slowly became smaller, dilapidated, dirty. The streets became tiny and filled with refuse. Worst of all, the peoples' stares became angry. Ed swallowed after accidentally catching the eye of one of them. He looked to be around forty, slender but tall, and glared at Ed and Mustang as though he'd personally watched them kill his family.

His eyes, oddly, were a color Ed had never seen before. Red. Some kind of genetic mutation, maybe?

But then Ed looked around, and more and more the people around him had those same red eyes. Every pair of them held the same fury.

Ed shivered, dragging his gaze away from the townspeople. "Are...are we almost there, Colonel?"

Mustang's eyes flicked towards him. "What's the matter, Fullmetal? Not used to seeing the sins of the military?"

Ed would've snapped back, but something in Mustang's tone stopped him. He sounded...heavy. Like the sight of the street, the buildings, the people were physically weighing him down. Then the full meaning of Mustang's words hit him and Ed nearly stumbled.

"What do you mean, _sins?"_

Mustang's head turned towards him. His jaw was set, his mouth drawn. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow, controlled breath. "Not now. I'll tell you later."

In Ed's experience, "later" usually meant "never". He glared. He'd be damned if this were yet another piece of necessary information Mustang was keeping from him. "Tell me now, bastard!"

"Fullmetal-"

Ed stopped in his tracks. "I'm not moving until you tell me."

Mustang looked like he wanted to strangle Ed. When he spoke, his voice was furious but hushed. "Are you serious? You're going to stop in the middle of the street, in the middle of a mission, just to get some irrelevant information out of me? How childish are you!?"

"I'm sick of being left out of things!" Ed retorted hotly, just as quietly as Mustang. "You and your entire team refuse to stop treating me like a child! You never tell me what my missions are really about, you never give me any pertinent information - you didn't even tell me the real reason we're here!"

"Oh? The way you're acting right now, it seems I was right to do so! You're acting like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum!" Mustang grabbed him by the arm and started moving, dragging Ed with him. "This is not the right time to wrangle information out of me, Fullmetal. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"Well maybe if you'd tell me something for once in your miserable life, I would!" 

Mustang turned his head to glare at him. "How stupid are you? We're out in the middle of a street, surrounded by people who are clearly hostile, and you want to talk about politics? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

Ed scoffed, digging his heels in. In his rage, he forgot to keep his voice down. "Dangerous? Since when have you ever cared about danger? Aren't you supposed to be the Hero of Ishval or whatever?"

Whatever response Ed had been expecting from Mustang - annoyance, frustration, fury - he didn't get. No. Mustang went bone-white and stopped walking. His eyes darted nervously from side to side.

"Fullmetal..."

"What? Don't tell me the famous Flame Alchemist is getting modest now," Ed scoffed. "You're supposed to be one of the most brilliant alchemists of our day!"

Mustang somehow went almost grey. The hand on Ed's arm loosened. "Edward."

The use of his first name - the first time Mustang had ever done so - stopped Ed. He asked, a little belligerently, "What?"

Mustang swallowed. "On my count, you run. Got it? Run and don't look back."

"Colonel, what on earth are you talking about? I'm not playing some demented game of hide-and-seek with you-"

"Fullmetal, look around."

For the first time in several minutes, Ed did. 

"H-Hey! Get back! Get back, you creepy perverts! Why are you all so close!?"

"Is what the child said true? Are you the Flame?"

It was the forty-year-old man from earlier. He was barely five feet away now, his fiery eyes drilling into Mustang like he had a personal vendetta against the man. Around him stood a gathering group of red-eyed townspeople, all giving Mustang that same look.

Ed was hopelessly confused. Sure, he wasn't surprised the Colonel would've made enemies during his career - the man was a bastard, after all - but this many? Practically the entire ghetto looked ready to kill him!

...Kill him?

Ed looked back at Mustang. Had that been why Mustang had told him to run? Because he wanted to...?

No, of course not. That was insane. The man had never tried to protect him before, why would he start now? He probably just...uh. Exactly what other reason could he have for getting Ed away from there?

"Hey, uh, bastard," Ed hissed to Mustang, low enough the townspeople couldn't hear, "I don't know what the hell's their problem, but you should probably lie."

Mustang didn't respond. He just looked at the gathering crowd in silence. He'd let go of Ed at some point and now stood straight and tall. Defiant. Every muscle, every line in his body spoke of readiness to fight. Everything...

Ed's face scrunched in confusion.

Everything except for Mustang's eyes.

"I am."

As though the two calmly-spoken words had been an explosion, the entire crowd flinched backwards. Then they surged forward, hatred renewed in their eyes. Yet they did not lay hands on either alchemist.

"He's the Flame!" one of them shouted, waving an angry fist at Mustang. "The one who murdered my sister!"

"He killed my son!" an older woman yelled. "He wasn't even five!"

"He slaughtered my parents!"

Like a tidal wave broken forth, the mob surrounded the two alchemists. Every person, it seemed, had someone who had died: a mother, brother, father, sister, son, daughter, husband, wife, friend...the wave of fury and anguish was too much for Ed to comprehend. What was going _on?_

"HEY!" Ed screamed. The townspeople quieted a little, but not enough. "HEY, LISTEN UP ASSHOLES!"

The mob fell silent, or close enough to it. There was still an occasional sob or scream or discontented mumble, but Ed figured that was the best he could ask for. 

"Listen," Ed said again, "I don't know what's going on, but you all need to calm down! This guy-" Ed jerked his thumb at Mustang, "-I know him, okay? He's a bastard, I'll give you that, but I know him! He's not a murderer. He would never do something like that."

"Fullmetal..." Mustang murmured, something far too emotional in his voice. Ed flushed and reminded himself to tell the man later that he'd just been trying to save his own skin.

"So whoever you think killed all those people, it's not him! Just leave us alone! We're just trying to do our jobs!"

An older woman - the one who'd accused Mustang of killing her son - stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "He admitted to being the Flame himself, boy. We know it was the Flame who killed them."

A scoff rang out from another direction. Ed turned to see a young man with the same red eyes and white hair as the rest of the crowd glaring at Ed. "And besides that, what do you mean by 'your jobs'? We've had enough experience with the military _dogs_ just doing their jobs!"

A grumble of agreement rose in the crowd.

"They were 'just doing their jobs' when they slaughtered our families!" a man cried out.

"And they were 'just doing their jobs' when they forced the remainder of us into these slums and trapped us in them," came another voice. "What's next, you dogs? Have you come to finish the job you started?"

"Uh..." Ed was utterly, entirely lost. Damn the Colonel for keeping him in the dark about this - whatever this was! "I..."

"Please, listen." Mustang's tone was uncharacteristically soft, yet the people around still reacted as though he'd shouted - flinching backwards, covering their faces protectively, shielding their children. Ed suddenly realized why. Why they shouted with such fury, yet all kept their distance. Why none of them had even tried to lay a hand on Mustang. 

They were afraid.

"I know you will not believe me. I have done nothing to earn it. But I did not come here to hurt any of you. I heard rumors that this town held a number of Ishvalan survivors. I came to see if the rumors were true, and, if possible, help you."

"Help us?" a man spat. "You've killed us! Why would you help us now?"

The crowd murmured agreement.

Mustang left that unanswered, although his eyes flickered. "Regardless of what you might be thinking, neither I nor my subordinate intend to cause any harm to you. However, if you lay hands on us, we will fight back. I think you remember exactly what my title of Flame means, yes?"

That was the wrong thing to say. A ripple of fear swept through the crowd. For a moment they were all still. Then the tidal wave crested and they surged forward as one, screaming, shouting, waving fists and pitchforks and clubs.

"Kill him!"

There was a snap, then a burst of brilliant flame flared up into the air. The people screamed. 

"Fullmetal, run!"

Ed obeyed. He tore after Mustang, following closely on his heels as the man weaved through the mob, sending bursts of flame periodically into the air whenever someone got too close. None of the flames came anywhere close to burning anyone, but the people shrieked as though they'd been given third-degree burns. Ed followed Mustang's cue, creating pillars of stone to block a pitchfork or scythe from cutting off his or Mustang's head.

The two raced through the town, pelting back up the streets they'd casually strode down just minutes before. The mob followed. 

Finally, Ed had had enough. At the intersection between two streets, Ed made up his mind. He stopped right at the spot the two streets joined and clapped. A wall of stone rose up right in front of pairs of shocked red eyes, blocking the street off entirely from the rest of the town.

"There!" Ed said proudly, barely able to hear the furious protests of the mob from behind the wall. "Finally, some peace and quiet."

"You do realize that isn't the only street that connects to this one," Mustang said dryly. He turned and began moving again, though now his pace had slowed to a brisk walk. "Still, this should buy us some time. Although you know I'll be taking the cost of repairs out of your paycheck, Fullmetal."

"What!? But this is to save our lives!"

"Regardless, it's still being taken out of your paycheck. It's not like you actually _need_ that much money, anyway. Your salary's more than enough to support you and your brother."

"Well yeah, but it's the principal of the thing!"

Mustang rolled his eyes, not deigning to dignify that with a response. "Let's move. I doubt they've given up yet. We need to find a place to lay low until the tension dissipates somewhat."

"We can't just go back to the hotel?"

Mustang shook his head, increasing his pace. Ed grumbled, finding it hard to keep up with his sho- with _Mustang's_ _freakishly long_ legs. "We have no idea if they know where we're staying, and I'd rather not risk it. It'd be best to find some abandoned building on the outskirts of town and stay there for a while."

They had already passed the area their hotel had been in and were coming close to the opposite end of town from where they'd been. A few minutes more and they'd reach the outer edge of the town.

Ed occupied himself with wondering what had just happened. Mustang seemed, on the surface, as unperturbed as ever, but surely that was just a facade. Surely not even the Colonel could live through a mob screaming false accusations and swearing death threats to him and not be bothered.

They had a few near-misses with mob stragglers before finally reaching a building Mustang declared was going to be their hiding-place. The man motioned Ed to stay put while he entered the building and inspected it for any intruders. He came out a few minutes later with the all clear and motioned Ed in. And not a moment too soon; Ed saw several white-haired, tan-skinned townspeople rush by not long after.

"Hopefully this will all settle down before the evening, and we'll be able to get back to the hotel by tonight," Mustang said. Ed glanced out the window and frowned. It wasn't even midday. How had all this happened so quickly? 

Mustang sat down on an old crate, running a hand through his hair. Now that they weren't on the run, he'd dropped his unperturbed facade and seemed tired, maybe even exhausted. He stared at the dusty, filthy floor with an expression of defeat.

Ed swallowed. He forced himself to take a cautious step towards him. "Colonel?"

"What is it, Fullmetal?"

Mustang sounded heavy, again; held that same heaviness he'd had earlier before Ed had so stupidly turned an entire mob on the two of them. Ed took another step closer.

"I...I wanted to..." The words weighed on his tongue. "I wanted to...apologize. Colonel."

Mustang looked up. He subjected Ed to that piercing stare of his but said nothing. He was clearly waiting for Ed to continue.

So, inwardly cursing the man for making him spell it out, Ed said, "I shouldn't have tried to force you to reveal information, especially when surrounded by potentially hostile people. And I definitely shouldn't have called you that."

Mustang was quiet for a moment. "Why?" he said at last.

Ed blinked. "Why what?"

"Why shouldn't you have called me-" Mustang broke off, his lip curling, "-the Hero of Ishval?"

Somehow, that title coming from its owner made it seem different. Maybe it was the disgust with which he spoke it. Maybe it was the self-incrimination in his eyes as he broke eye contact with Ed and looked away.

Ed, like he had been this entire day, was lost. He ventured, "Because it turned the mob on us and put you in danger?"

A small, bitter smile turned up Mustang's lips. "You think I care about being put in danger? No. I'll ask you this, then: why do you think I was given that title in the first place?"

Ed stared at the man, nonplussed. At any other time he probably would've started yelling about never being told anything, so how was he supposed to know? Instead, he said, "I don't know."

That bitter smile grew, then faded. "I'll tell you then. You should be happy, Fullmetal. You'll finally get some of that information you've been wanting for so long. Sit down, will you? This will take a while."

Ed dragged a crate over and sat across from Mustang. Looking at the man, he suddenly wondered if maybe he'd be better off not knowing whatever Mustang was about to tell him. 

"What do you know of the Ishval Civil War?"

Ed considered for a moment. He didn't know much. He knew an Amestrian soldier had killed an Ishvalan, which sparked a rebellion that had gone on for years before finally being silenced by the Amestrian military. Given how close Resembool was to Ishval, he'd seen wounded soldiers and civilians occasionally seek aid from the villagers. When he was little, Ishvalans had bombed the town. That was the closest he'd ever gotten to the war itself.

He told Mustang that, who sighed. "You're correct in how it started. An Amestrian soldier did indeed kill an Ishvalan child. It's claimed to have been an accident, but no one will ever know for sure. I personally have my suspicions about that. Whatever the case, the Ishvalans were furious. They'd already been unhappy by being ruled by Amestris. According to their religion, alchemy is a violation of their sacred laws. Being ruled by a nation who supported alchemy was unacceptable. The revolt was just waiting to happen, and that child was just its catalyst."

Mustang shifted on his crate. His expression had darkened. He continued, "Over the next seven years, the rebellion only spread. The Amestrian military did their best to suppress it, but finally the Fuhrer decided it was time to put an end to it. With that in mind, he issued order #3066: a command that all state alchemists must join the front. And that commenced the Ishvalan War of Extermination."

The darkness in his voice sent a shiver down Ed's spine. Suddenly the man looked like he wasn't all there, like some part of him was back in Ishval, reliving his words.

"The war that Amestris had struggled to fight for seven years...with the help of the state alchemists, it was over in one. In the end it wasn't even a war. It was a massacre."

Ed's throat had gone dry. "Colonel? Were you...?"

"It was hell on earth," Mustang said as though Ed weren't even there. "No matter where you went, there was no escaping it: the screams of innocents, the bullets sinking into their flesh, the sand that soaked up their blood like a sponge. We rounded them up like cattle and slaughtered them like animals, day after day after day. I wondered if it would ever stop. I wasn't sure it would."

Mustang looked up. His eyes were haunted, as dead as the people he had killed. "No matter how much I throw up, I can't get the smell of burnt flesh out of my nose. I could practically taste it, Fullmetal. Some days when rations were low, I'd burn someone and...wonder. Wonder what it would actually taste like. Some of my worst days I'd look at a bloody, burned, dismembered leg and wonder if it would be comparable to a pig's leg."

He paused for a long moment. Revulsion lanced across his face. "So imagine coming back from that. Not being able to forget the face of any of the hundreds of people you'd killed. Not even being able to forget their smell. Imagine coming back from all that, and your Fuhrer welcomes you home and calls you a hero for butchering innocents like sheep. _That_ is what the title Hero of Ishval means, Fullmetal."

Ed stared at Mustang and for a long, long moment wanted to throw up. He couldn't believe Mustang, the man he'd just defended against being a murderer, could ever have done that. He felt betrayed, disgusted, like being in Mustang's presence was vile. How could a man - any man - do something like that?

The disgust curdled in his stomach. But before it could come up, Ed remembered. He remembered feeling like this before: three years ago, in Resembool, that night. Then, he had felt that same disgust towards himself.

Ed let out a shuddering breath. How was tearing his brother's body away any different from butchering a man? How was creating an abomination different from killing an innocent? Ed had stolen life just like Mustang had. It was Ed's fault Al would never have a normal life, even if he got his body back. And how much worse was Ed for doing that to his own brother?

But it was different, another part of Ed protested. He had never actually killed anyone. Mustang had killed - by his own admission - hundreds of people. Mustang was worse, far worse, than Ed had ever been.

Yet...

Ed reached forward and gingerly laid a hand on top of one of the Colonel's gloved ones. Mustang looked up, shocked. "Fullmetal?"

Maybe what Mustang had done was far worse than what Ed had. But what did it matter? They had both destroyed. They had both hurt. They had both done the unforgivable - and whether that was human transmutation or murder, what did it really matter?

Ed remembered that day, three years ago, when Mustang had first learned of his crime. Ed had expected condemnation and had gotten something else. For years, Ed hadn't been able to decipher what Mustang had been offering, but now...

Now, looking at the haunted, guilty eyes of his superior, Ed realized. What Mustang had offered him was understanding. The very least Ed could do was offer him the same. After all, was that not Equivalent Exchange?

Ed very cautiously, very awkwardly squeezed Mustang's hand with his own. The only person he'd ever comforted before was his brother, and he'd certainly never had to do this for him. 

"I understand," he said quietly. "And...I'm sorry."

Whether the apology was for his rash actions earlier that day, his use of a title that caused Mustang pain, or for the horrors of living through the Ishval Civil War, no one could tell. But Mustang met Ed's eyes and that same understanding that had passed between them three years ago passed between them once more.

Mustang nodded once. The haunted look in his eyes had dissipated slightly. "Thank you."

Ed withdrew his hand and backed away, fighting down a blush. Mustang stood up and went to the window. "I don't see any Ishvalans. I'd say it's safe to go back to the hotel now."

Ed stood. "Are you sure?"

"Are you questioning your commanding officer?" Mustang asked with a raised brow. "But yes, I'm sure. After all, I doubt they'd even notice you walking down the street."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was a doozy. When I set out to write this chapter, I was not expecting this monster. Rest assured, the next chapter will be lighter in theme and finally give y'all some actual parental!Roy like we've all been wanting since chapter one. 
> 
> As a side-note: Roy absolutely, 100% owns actual pajamas. He just was too embarrassed to wear them around Ed - after all, what thirteen-year-old wouldn't mock a thirty-year-old for wearing flame-patterned shorts to bed?  
> As another side-note: the reason Roy and Ed were only able to afford one hotel room was for one of two reasons. Either A) the innkeeper was an Ishvalan sympathizer who overcharges any and all military personnel who come to stay, or B) Roy dated the innkeeper's sister/daughter and was charged an exorbitant price out of revenge. Pick your poison!
> 
> See you soon!


	3. Chapter 3

_Bastard_

If anyone had asked Ed how he'd least like to be, Ed would probably have answered something along the lines of "injured, trapped, or stuck with Colonel Bastard."

Unfortunately, because Truth apparently liked to make his life as miserable as possible, Ed was currently all three.

Okay, look. Now that Ed had been working for Mustang for three years, he admitted the man wasn't quite as much of a bastard as he'd thought at first. He genuinely tried to find Ed leads for ways to get Al's body back - even now that the whole Philosopher's Stone thing was a bust. He'd helped keep Al and Ed's human transmutation a secret, even though the knowledge could cost Mustang his entire career. 

That still didn't change the fact that the man was _fucking annoying._

"I have to say, this situation is certainly...breathtaking."

"If you use that fucking joke one more time, I'll-!"

"You'll what, scream at me? Oh no, the horror. I don't know how I'll survive that." Mustang's voice was the driest sarcasm Ed had ever had the displeasure to hear.

"You're lucky I'm injured, or I'd-"

"Injured?" Through the pitch-darkness of the cave they were stuck in, Ed heard Mustang sit up and start towards him. "You didn't tell me you were injured, Fullmetal."

See? Fucking _annoying._

"I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know," Ed huffed. "It's not like I can do anything about it right now, anyway. I can't even see my own hand."

Mustang was still moving towards him, following the sound of his voice. Ed scooted back until he hit a cave wall.

"What happened?"

"Get away from me!" Ed said snappishly, glaring in the direction of Mustang's voice. "And stop talking! Weren't you just saying we had a limited supply of oxygen in here?"

"That was before I found out you were injured! Dammit Fullmetal, what did you do?"

"Why is it always my fault?" Ed grumbled. He pressed down a little harder on his injured side. "And it's nothing."

"'Nothing' as in actually nothing, or 'nothing' as in you're deathly injured but don't want to tell me out of a misplaced sense of your own damn pride?"

Ed glared.

"Fullmetal..."

"Oh, shut your trap," Ed scoffed. "It's your fault we ended up here in the first place, you bastard!"

Mustang let out an exasperated sigh. He was still inching closer to Ed, and Ed didn't like that one bit. "Would it kill you to cooperate for once? Seriously, why do you insist on being so stubborn?"

Ed huffed. He didn't really know why himself. He wasn't like this with anyone but Mustang, and as much as he didn't like to admit it, it wasn't entirely the bastard's fault. Sure, Mustang didn't help matters with his relentless short jokes and manipulative bullshit, but Ed would admit in his heart of hearts that the man didn't always deserve how Ed treated him. Most of the time, sure, but not all the time. And those times...

Those times were just like this one. When Mustang was trying to do something to help him or Al, and Ed just...couldn't accept it. 

"Why do you insist on poking your nose into my business?" Ed retorted, scooting sideways.

The situation suddenly struck him as slightly ridiculous: here he was, trapped in the dark in a cave because Mustang had thought it'd be a good place to hide from the berserk alchemist on their tails. They were going to run out of air in the next few minutes. Ed was incapable of using alchemy because said berserk alchemist had ripped his hand off; Mustang's alchemy was utterly useless. Yet Mustang's first concern was Ed's injury. 

Mustang crawled closer. "You're my subordinate, Fullmetal. I'm trying to make sure you're okay!"

"Well, maybe I don't _want_ that, you bastard!"

"Tough luck," Mustang growled. "You're getting it anyway. Now hold still, dammit!"

A hand blindly groped into the darkness, hitting Ed in the side. "There you are. Now-"

He was cut off by a cry of pain.

"Fullmetal?"

"S-Shut up. Go away!"

Mustang gave an exasperated sigh. Ed heard rather than saw the man crawl closer until he was sitting right next to Ed. On his injured side, no less. Just fan-fucking-tastic. "This is like treating a feral cat. Can you calm down for just _one second_ and tell me what the hell happened?"

Realizing Ed wouldn't be able to escape this one, he glared sulkily in Mustang's direction and gave a very pointed, very loud sigh. "If you must know," he said stiffly, "I was stabbed."

Silence.

"You were- you were _what?"_

Mustang's hands were suddenly all over him, but gentle as they felt the blood-soaked cloth, the torn flesh. Ed let out a hiss and Mustang cursed. "This is exactly why I was worried! You have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, Fullmetal! Fuck, if only I could _see..."_

Mustang was...worried?

"You were worried?" Ed asked. It didn't come out as mocking as he would've liked. "Careful, Colonel, or you might start sounding like you care."

When he said it didn't come out as mocking as he would've liked, he meant it didn't come out as mocking at all. In fact, it sounded small. Weak. Ed decided to attribute it to the blood loss.

Unfortunately, Mustang didn't seem to agree with the attribution. "When did I give the impression that I don't?"

"I-" Ed gaped at the darkness, barely feeling Mustang's hands still prodding at the wound. "Hey, that isn't fair, b-bastard. You can't just - _say_ things like that!"

"Oh?" Mustang cursed under his breath and carefully withdrew his hands. He seemed to be fumbling with something. "And why not? I thought I'd been pretty clear. You're part of my team now, and my team looks out for each other."

Ed felt his face heat up. More than that, he felt the distinct urge to disappear and forget he'd ever had this conversation with the Colonel in the first place. "Th-that's not- well I wouldn't look out for you!"

Ed couldn't see Mustang's face, but the man didn't seem bothered. He actually laughed. "So why'd you defend my name to Lieutenant General Asbury then?"

Ed sputtered incoherently for a few seconds, sputtering more when Mustang kept laughing. "That wasn't - that doesn't count, bastard! I was just correcting the blatantly false facts the asshole was spewing! I wasn't trying to help you!"

"Blatantly false facts such as: 'Roy Mustang's a manipulative asshole who recruited a twelve-year-old to boost his own ego' and 'Roy Mustang doesn't care about the well-being of his men'?" Mustang questioned innocently. "Fullmetal, I'm disappointed. I would've thought someone of your intellect could distinguish between fact and opinion."

Something touched him that wasn't hands. Ed stiffened for a moment before recognizing it for what it was: cloth. Mustang was trying to bandage the stab wound. With what, though? He would've had to tear his own clothing.

"Of course I can," Ed said indignantly. "I still wasn't doing it for you! Do you have any idea how humiliating it'd be to be forced to work under an officer everyone thought was a self-serving dick?"

The cloth wrapped tighter around Ed's torso and he winced. Mustang's voice was still amused when he said, "Why not just pick another commanding officer, then? You've certainly gotten plenty of offers, or so I've heard from Hawkeye."

Ed swore. He knew he never should've told that to Hawkeye! "You know how much I hate the military. At least you don't try and make me do stuff I don't want to do that often. Bastard."

"Right. That's the only reason."

Smug, self-satisfied _prick._

"Just what are you implying?" Ed hissed. Something small and very vulnerable was beginning to ache inside his chest. It was the same ache that had first appeared when he'd watched Hohenheim turn his back on them and walk away.

Ed felt Mustang knot the cloth bandage and pull away. "Nothing. Just that, for all you try to deny it, you aren't as uncaring as you'd like to think."

"What are you, my therapist? Fuck off."

Ed's tone was so harsh, so dismissive he actually heard a small sound of surprise from Mustang. "Ed, I'm just saying-"

Mustang's nearly unprecedented use of Ed's first name - his nickname, at that - was the last straw. "Get the fuck away from me! I told you the first time, I don't care about you, and I'm never gonna care about you, so will you stop twisting my words already!? I _hate_ you, you bastard!"

Mustang didn't say anything for a very long time. As the seconds dragged on, Ed felt his fury slowly ebb and realized he'd gone too far. He'd gone way, way too far. 

A sick pit of guilt opened in his stomach. What had he done?

A vicious, hateful part of him was gleeful. _Look, Ed!_ It said. _If that wasn't enough to drive him away, nothing will be! Now you'll never, ever have to worry about him hurting you like Hohenheim did._

Because that was the problem. Ed wanted someone to help him, someone to guide him, someone to protect him and make sense of the world. He hadn't had that in so long, not since Mom had died. Sure, people tried, Granny, Teacher, Hughes, but none of them were enough. Granny didn't understand alchemy. Teacher would sooner beat Ed up than protect him from anything. And Hughes...Hughes was too nice. Hughes didn't tell him when he was being stupid, much less tell him off for it. 

Mustang, from the very beginning, had been different. And that was why, from the very beginning, Ed had gifted him with a name he'd only used on one other person: his father. Ed had hoped that, every time he called Mustang a bastard, it would serve as a reminder.

_If given the chance, he'll treat you just like Hohenheim did. He'll turn his back on you and leave you to the dogs. Don't you dare trust him, Ed._

Well, now Ed had gone and done it, if he hadn't already done it before. There was no way Mustang would want to be around him anymore. Ed guessed it was good that he'd at least gotten it over with. At least he'd done it on his terms.

The silence dragged on. Ed fidgeted with the bandage around his torso and glared up into the blackness.

...It still hurt, though.

...And he couldn't deny the regret pooling in his lungs, either.

"C-Colonel?" Ed said hesitantly. "I-"

"Not now, Fullmetal." Mustang's voice was farther away now and closed off.

Ed's heart sank. He'd really messed this up. Just like he had when Hohenheim had left. He just couldn't get it right, could he?

He swallowed. He would just have to deal with it. It was, after all, his fault. He'd been the one to say those cruel, undeserved things to Mustang. The Colonel was perfectly in his rights to never want to speak to Ed again.

The injury in his side gave one sharp throb as if it, too, wanted to punish Ed for his misdeeds. Ed bit back a curse, hand automatically falling to his side. He stopped at the bandage. It was yet another thing Mustang had done for him that Ed hadn't so much as thanked him for, had in fact made even more difficult for the man. He really was the worst, wasn't he? Here Mustang was, just trying to keep Ed's blood inside his body...

Wait.

"Colonel?"

"I said, not now."

Ed couldn't use alchemy his normal way without his automail, and Mustang's flame alchemy wouldn't get them out of a cave. But, what if...?

"It's important."

"What is it?" Mustang's tone was utterly detached. Ed cringed just hearing it. 

"Can you use your flame alchemy in here as a light source?"

Mustang scoffed. "Don't be stupid, Fullmetal. I could, but we'd run out of oxygen in minutes, if not seconds. Why on earth do you want a light source, anyway? Surely it's not because you want to look at me."

Ed bit his lip and hated himself. "I can't use my normal method of transmutation without my other hand, and you aren't familiar with transmuting stone."

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. Do you have anything helpful to add?"

"I can still perform alchemy the normal way, though," Ed said. "I have an array in mind that could get us out of here, but I need light to draw it."

"And what, exactly, were you planning on drawing it with?" Mustang asked. "Neither of us carry drawing implements."

Ed hesitated. This was where the plan got a little sketchy. "Um...well. I was thinking I could use my blood."

"Your blood." Mustang's tone was utterly flat. "What a brilliant idea, Fullmetal. Let's just injure you some more so we can get ourselves out of here. Why didn't I think of that?"

"I don't see you coming up with any ideas!" Ed snapped. "Al and your team might be out there looking for us, but what if they don't find us in time? I'm not gonna sit around and let you die!"

Mustang paused as though something Ed had said bore contemplation. Then he said, "Alright. I'll give you light, but you'll have to be quick. There isn't a lot of oxygen left and if you make a mistake..."

"I won't," Ed said. _Not again, anyway._

A ball of fire snapped to life. Ed blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden light. Then he got to work.

The first method of business was to unbind his wound. Even in the dark, Mustang had knotted the cloth around Ed's wound with perfect precision. Ed fumbled uselessly at it with one hand.

"Uh...sorry to bother you, but..."

Mustang reached over and undid the knot. He took off the cloth that had acted as a bandage, and for the first time Ed saw what it was. It was part of his coat. Mustang had ripped up his own coat to treat Ed's wound.

Suddenly Ed felt even worse. He mumbled, "Colonel...you didn't have to rip up your coat just to help me." 

Mustang was quiet for a few seconds, long enough that Ed looked timidly up at him. "No, I didn't have to," he said finally. "Hurry up, Fullmetal. Oxygen's running out."

Ed crawled over to where the cave-in had occurred. What Mustang had said was right. Ed was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen. He hoped he'd be conscious enough to activate the array by the time he'd finished drawing it. 

Gingerly, Ed dabbed at his wound with one finger. The wound throbbed angrily at him and he grimaced but turned back towards the unyielding stone. He began the array. It was a fairly simple one, as simple as he'd been able to think up, but it still required more blood than he'd been expecting. When he was still a quarter of the way from completing it, he dipped a finger back in his wound and found no more excess blood. Mustang's makeshift bandage had done its job too well. 

"Fullmetal, why are you stopping?" Mustang asked. "We don't have much time left!"

Ed's eyes widened as he looked from his blood-stained finger back to his wound, then narrowed in determination. If he didn't have enough blood to complete the array, he'd just have to make some.

"F-Full- _Ed!_ What are you doing!?"

Ed choked out an agonized sob, tears blurring his vision. _Damn,_ that had hurt. "W-What needed to be d-done. Didn't have enough blood...had to make more."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Mustang snarled. "That does _not_ justify you ripping open a stab wound with your automail wires!"

"I'm just trying to get us out of here alive, okay?" Ed said, glaring. The pain had intensified severely after he'd further opened the wound, but he regained himself. He dipped his finger in the wound and it came back dripping blood. Good.

Mustang was moving back towards him. "You could've asked me," he said. "I would've-"

"We don't have _time_ for this!" Ed snapped. "Now shut up and let me finish the array."

Mercifully, Mustang obeyed. Ed drew the last parts of the array and sat back, examining it with a critical eye. His head was started to throb and he felt dizzy. Mustang's flame had begun to flicker. They didn't have much time left. If the array wasn't perfect...

It was. It had to be.

Closing his eyes, Ed set his palm down.

As though punched with a supremely large fist, the stone crumpled backwards. It split in the middle and folded in two. For a long moment Ed thought he'd failed.

Then a beam of light rushed in, and with it, fresh air. 

Ed collapsed against the stone, shaking in relief and pain and dizziness that hadn't quite gone away. Beside him Mustang gave a weak, strained, near-hysterical laugh and let his fire fizzle out into nothingness.

"It worked," he said, then the laugh became real. "It worked!"

Mustang grinned at him. Ed smiled back hesitantly. "C'mon, let me help you up. Let's get that wound of yours some help."

"I don't-" Ed started, about to reject Mustang out of sheer habit. Then he stopped.

After what Ed had said, after how he'd acted, Mustang should've been high-tailing it out of the cave, not offering Ed help. Why was he still saying things like that? Why hadn't he left?

That's what Hohenheim would have done.

Maybe... Ed met Mustang's coal-black eyes, so different from his dad's gold ones. Maybe Mustang wasn't like Hohenheim after all. 

"I..." Ed swallowed and desperately hoped he wasn't wrong. "Okay."

Mustang took his flesh arm and hefted him up like a sack of potatoes. "Jeez, Fullmetal, you're heavy. That must be where all the food you eat goes to - it certainly isn't going towards your height."

And maybe...maybe Mustang wasn't like the bastard he'd called father, after all. 

Ed sniffed disdainfully. "Whatever. You're just jealous _I'm_ the one who gets all the recruitment offers from higher-ups! Well, you know what?"

"What, Fullmetal?" 

"Fuck all of 'em, because you're stuck with me, like it or not. You hear?"

Mustang looked down at him and a small, genuine smile formed. "Copy that."

Mustang led the way out of the cave, looking back every now and again to ensure Ed was okay. Before, that would've infuriated him, seeing it as Mustang's lack of trust in Ed's ability to take care of himself. Now...

_He's not like Hohenheim at all. It's Hohenheim that doesn't deserve to be called a bastard, not Mustang._

"I'm still not sure what those generals were hoping to get from you, though," Mustang was saying as they stepped out from the cave into the sunlight. "You're a stubborn, insubordinate, reckless, hot-tempered shorty after all. Guess beauty really is in the eye of the beholder."

Ed glared at him and went to punch him. "You say that again, bastard!"

Mustang sidestepped, and laughed, and despite the dizziness, despite the wound splitting open his side, despite the lingering guilt over how Ed had treated Mustang...

For a moment, everything felt okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all I said this chapter was going to be lighter than the previous one, it...wasn't really? I went from starting a riot and talking about genocide in the previous chapter to poor Roy suffocating in a cave with Daddy Issues Edward Elric™ in this one. I promise next chapter's actually gonna be light.
> 
> I'm doing my best to keep these two in character, but now that we're at the halfway point, it's going to start getting harder. Here's the tricky point where I'll be endeavoring to keep them as close to canon as possible, yet still develop their relationship past what it was in canon.  
> See you soon!


	4. Chapter 4

_Mustang_

It started, very simply, with a bet. It all went downhill from there.

"What? Fullmetal, there's no way either of us can get five girls' numbers by the end of tonight! That's insane!"

"What, giving up so quickly, bastard?" Ed taunted. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head and grinning at Mustang with all the arrogance of a fifteen-almost-sixteen-year-old boy. Because the almost part was _very_ important. "It's not like you to refuse a challenge!"

Mustang glared back at him. It'd taken a couple weeks for the lingering awkwardness of their last escapade to fade, but Mustang and Ed were finally back to normal. Maybe the tone Ed used when he called Mustang a bastard was a little different now; maybe when Mustang offered assistance Ed had started to accept it rather than blow it back in his face. And maybe Mustang's tone when he called off a soldier who'd been bullying Ed was sharper; maybe the smug, arrogant smirk he gave Ed had become genuine. But other than that (and that was a _maybe!)_ things were normal.

And by normal...

"Colonel, please ignore my brother," Al said pleadingly from Ed's left. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"What? Of course I do, Al!"

Al leaned over and said in a hushed whisper, "When was the last time you got _any_ girl's number, brother?"

Ed blinked. "Uh, well...Winry! Just...three years ago..."

Al gave him an unimpressed look.

"Oh come on, Al! It can't be that hard! You just go up to some chick and, uh, flirt with her a bit and bam! Number!"

"Do you even know how to flirt?"

"Of course I do!" Ed said indignantly. "All I gotta do is show 'em my automail!"

"Brother, that only works on Winry."

"W-Win-" Ed let out a shriek. "I'M NOT FLIRTING WITH WINRY!"

Watching them, Mustang looked more done than Ed had ever seen him before, but a flicker of a smirk had begun to crawl up his lips. "Winry, huh, Fullmetal? Sounds like you've got quite the girl there."

Ed lunged across the table and would've punched the bastard had Al not grabbed him and jerked him back. "Brother, calm down, there's people here!"

They were, in fact, sitting in a bar. Mustang's team had decided to go out to celebrate Falman's birthday, but it had devolved pretty rapidly. Falman himself was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Fuery - the latter was notoriously lightweight and Falman was probably watching Fuery puke out his guts at that very moment. Breda was chatting at the bar with Havoc, and Hawkeye was a few feet away from Ed, Al, and Mustang, watching the three of them with her unique mixture of fondness and absolute judgment. 

"I don't care if there's people, Winry's not my girl! She's not even a girl! She's a gear-head, more like," Ed scoffed, sitting back in his seat with a slouch and a scowl. "In any case, don't change the subject! I bet I can get five girls' numbers tonight, and _you_ can't!"

Mustang smirked. "Oh? What are you betting, Fullmetal?"

Al exchanged a very obvious, very exasperated look with Hawkeye. 

Ed looked down at the glass of wine Mustang was nursing and smirked himself. "If I win, I get to drink however much I want till the end of this night."

"What? Brother, that's illegal!"

"Now you're the one who's talking too loud," Ed hissed, glaring at the bar occupants who'd looked over at Al's outburst. "Way to make them think I'm a criminal."

"Hey, don't complain," Mustang said. "Girls like bad boys."

"Not really," Hawkeye said flatly. "Girls like responsible, mature men who don't make inane bets with children."

Ouch. 

"H-Hey," Mustang stammered, "Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"Harsh, sir? I was merely making a statement based on my own experience."

"...Right." Mustang gave a rueful look. "Anyway Fullmetal, what do I get if I win?"

"Well, you won't, so what's it matter?" 

Mustang hmphed. "I'm not taking a bet if there's nothing in it for me. Really, after all the times you've called me a selfish prick, you should know this."

Ed considered. "Okay, how about this. If you win, I'll...turn in my reports on time for the next two weeks."

Mustang scoffed. "You're equating timely reports - which you should be doing _anyway,_ Fullmetal - with underage drinking? Do you have any idea how bad that could be on my reputation if that gets out? 'Colonel Mustang lets underage child get alcohol poisoning due to small size-'"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A LITTLE MIDGET SO SMALL THEY'D DROWN IN A SINGLE DROP OF ALCOHOL!?"

"My point is, that's not nearly Equivalent Exchange. Try again, or I'm not taking the bet. You're lucky I'm even considering this."

Ed glared at the bastard, eyebrow twitching. Alright, what else could he use? There was no way he'd even consider letting the man give him whatever missions he wanted - knowing him, he'd just put Ed on latrine duty for a month because "you might overhear important information while cleaning" or some other bullshit. Nor could he ever, ever do... _that._

Then again, it's not like Ed was planning on losing.

"If I lose," Ed said determinedly, "I'll personally go through all of Central and tell everyone how amazing you are."

Mustang held out a hand. "Deal."

* * *

One hour later on the dot, Mustang strutted up to Ed with the pride of a peacock and a triumphant grin that would've pissed off Saint Peter himself. "You really shouldn't have bet what you did, Fullmetal," he sneered, "Cause guess who's going to be telling the Fuhrer how much you _looove_ me?"

"Piss off," Ed retorted, "how much've you been drinking, anyway? And I won't be telling our Fuhrer anything!"

"Oh yeah?" Mustang triumphantly held out a napkin. A single number had been messily scrawled on it.

Ed scoffed. "That the best you got? Our bet was five, or has the alcohol killed what little remained of your brain cells, bastard?"

"Tch, pesky midget," Mustang muttered.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?"

"Oh, be quiet. My ears are ringing now."

Mustang was definitely at least tipsy. His words no longer held their stiff control, nor his bearing its usual decorum. For once, Mustang looked relaxed. Dare Ed say, normal. For a moment, instead of a rivalry between subordinate and superior, it seemed almost like a competition between-

Nope. Not going there.

"Well?" Ed taunted. "Evidence, or I win!"

Glaring, Mustang pulled out a coaster with another number scribbled on it. Then another napkin. Then a receipt. With each item, Mustang's shit-eating grin grew bigger and bigger, more confident. Finally, with a flourish, he presented the last number, scrawled onto the palm of his hand.

"There you go, Fullmetal! I win! Now go on, time to kiss and tell," Mustang said in a sing-song. "You can start with Hawkeye over there, howsabout it?"

"Not so fast!" Ed said. "I'm not doing anything."

Mustang rolled his eyes. "There's no way a kid like you got two girls' numbers, let alone five. Give it up already, Fullmetal. You don't even know how to flirt!"

"Oh yeah? Well what's this supposed to mean, then?" Ed shoved something directly in front of Mustang's face. Caught off guard, Mustang flinched.

"Hey! Cool it, Fullmetal!"

He squinted, leaning back until the object came into focus. It was another napkin, with a number scrawled onto it like with Mustang's. He blinked in surprise but quickly recovered.

"Nice try. For all I know, you just wrote some random digits down on a napkin. How am I supposed to know those are legitimate?"

"Bastard!" Ed snapped. "How'm I supposed to know _your_ numbers are legitimate?"

"I've been watching," came Hawkeye's voice from behind them. Mustang automatically snapped to attention, which made Ed snort. Mustang elbowed him in the ribs. Ed elbowed him back. Mustang elbowed him again. Ed glared and went to pinch him-

 _"Men._ Why do you insist on acting like children?"

"Maybe because Fullmetal here is one?"

"Shut up! She called you one, too!"

Hawkeye cleared her throat. "As I was saying," she said pointedly, "I've been watching both of you. Neither of you have cheated. All the numbers you're in possession of are perfectly legitimate."

She turned to Mustang. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Uh...yes," Mustang said awkwardly. "Dismissed, Lieutenant." 

As soon as Hawkeye's footsteps had retreated to a reasonable distance, Ed snickered. "All those numbers you got and you still haven't gotten hers, huh, Colonel?"

"Shut your mouth!" Mustang hissed. "I bet you haven't gotten your Winry's number, either!"

"First off, she's my mechanic, so of course I do! Second off, she's not my Winry!"

"That's not what Al was saying."

Ed flushed. "Al doesn't know what he's talking about! Anyway, stop changing the subject! I win, so go get me a drink already!"

"Are you stupid, Fullmetal, or did you forget the deal? Five numbers to win, and I've got five. Even if you got five, that would just mean both of us lost. And I know you don't have five numbers."

"Oh, you know this, do you?"

"Most certainly."

His own five numbers in hand, Mustang smirked at him. He'd won and he knew it. No fifteen-year-old kid, regardless of how close to sixteen they were, could beat him at his own game. The burned hand taught best, and this was the best example: Fullmetal would learn never to go up against him again after this.

Ed smirked back at him. Slowly, tauntingly, he drew a receipt out of his pocket. Then, before Mustang could react, a folded piece of notebook paper. Then another napkin. And another.

Mustang's eyes had slowly grown wider with each successive object. No...he was hallucinating. Ed couldn't possibly have gotten _five_ girls' numbers. He'd never even had a girlfriend!

But Ed was still grinning. As the final blow, he held out a single glove. The white fabric was etched with black.

"I believe I win, Colonel. Now pay up."

Mustang staggered back like he'd been shot. "Wh- what? _Six?_ How in the-"

"You'd better start begging, Colonel," Ed said loftily. "Maybe I'll teach you."

"There's _no way_ you got them fairly," Mustang practically wheezed. "You- you must've, I don't know, threatened them-"

"Aww, poor wittle Mustang's beaten at his own game," Ed said, the name falling from his lips so naturally that Mustang didn't even notice. "Need I remind you, Hawkeye said all of the numbers were collected fairly. Now pay up already! I _definitely_ don't want to remember what those women said to me tomorrow morning."

Mustang just gaped at his subordinate for several seconds, utterly speechless. Edward Elric, a rude, brash child who'd shown about as much interest in women as he did in ripping off his other arm, had somehow beat him, Mustang, in his best skill.

"You know what, Fullmetal," Mustang said slowly, "As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with you. I don't want to remember this tomorrow, either."

As he trudged to the bar, an ecstatic Ed behind him, he did his absolute best to ignore the phantom laughter of Hughes in the back of his head: _they grow up so fast, don't they?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes the first solely fluff piece of literature I have ever written in my entire life (and given I've been writing for at least seven years now, that's saying something). I have never before written anything not intended to be taken seriously, let alone something intended to actually be funny...so here's hoping it turned out half-way decent.  
> I don't normally ask for comments, but for this I will ask for feedback - if there's anything I did well, anything I could improve, etc. This is really not my genre of expertise, so I'll be really grateful to know what you all thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken! All of you were overwhelmingly, nigh-unanimously, in support of making this one long chapter. So here you go!

_Roy_

Roy carried Fullmetal out of the building himself.

The reasons why were several. Firstly, it must be said that he carried Fullmetal because the kid couldn't walk. Sure, he tried to protest, but there's only so much protesting to be done when you're half-conscious and covered in blood. For someone who claimed he was careful and avoided trouble at all costs, the Fullmetal Alchemist sure ended up like that a lot. Usually, though, it was Al who picked up the pieces.

Which came to the second reason this situation had come about: Al was not there. Once Fullmetal's disappearance had become known - or, rather, once Roy had been convinced Fullmetal was actually missing instead of slacking off - he'd organized a search. The team Al was on, which consisted of him, Hawkeye, Falman, and Fuery, was still on the other side of Central City. Roy, Havoc, and Breda had been the ones to find Fullmetal. 

Roy had made short work of the piece of shit kidnappers once they'd gotten in. He'd left them alive - unfortunately, they needed to be so for interrogation - but he'd at least been able to make them suffer. As he glanced down at the child in his arms, he regretted not making them suffer more. 

It was strange sometimes - most times - being around Fullmetal. He acted both five years old and one hundred. When Roy talked to him, he never knew which side he would get. Sometimes Fullmetal would waltz into his office, slam the door, stick his dirty boots on Roy's furniture, and throw a tantrum a three-year-old would be proud of. Then Roy would mention chimeras or philosopher's stones or human transmutation and the child would vanish, an old man taking his place. 

Roy had seen the old man a lot recently. A few days after Fullmetal had won that bet on that night two months ago (which Roy was still doing his best to block out of his memory), he'd withdrawn into himself. Roy had no idea why. Fullmetal was always that way, though: two steps forward, one and a half steps back. Every time Roy thought they'd reached an understanding, the kid would retreat, withdraw, and things would be awkward and tense for a few weeks until he broke out of whatever idiocy he'd thought up and things went back to normal. 

It was...irritating. Not that Roy put a lot of thought into it - not that he cared, of course - but as stressful as Roy's job was with its endless political posturing, it would've been nice to have something go right for once. 

Clearly, looking at Fullmetal's prone figure, it hadn't.

In a way, Roy had seen the kidnapping coming from a half-mile away. It wasn't that he'd known Fullmetal would be kidnapped. If he had, he'd have personally found the kidnappers and charbroiled them. But there had been something off about Fullmetal for months. He was quieter, more subdued, his eyes still burning but the fire flickering instead of roaring. It was worst when he was with Al, which had been the most alarming part. Normally Al was the only one who could help him.

Looking at that, Roy had known in the back of his mind that it was only a matter of time before something gave. Either Fullmetal would pull himself out of his funk and shape up, or he'd slip and pay the consequences of that error. Unfortunately, it seemed like it was the latter.

Roy exited the now-abandoned edifice into the dreary light of twilight and a dim, filthy alleyway. Fullmetal weighed heavy in his arms, but even if he'd wanted to pass the burden to someone else, he couldn't have. Breda and Havoc were busy with the four men who'd kidnapped Fullmetal, and Hawkeye's team hadn't caught up yet.

"Breda, call for med-evac," Roy said. "We need to get Fullmetal to a hospital. And confirm our position with Hawkeye."

"No hospital," came a muffled voice.

Of course. Roy couldn't have even one thing go right, could he?

"Fullmetal," Roy said, "don't even start. You've been held hostage for three days, you're barely conscious, and you're bleeding. If you think you can just sleep this off, your IQ must be even lower than I thought."

Fullmetal was frowning. Roy noted it wasn't his usual obstinate frown - like everything else, it was more subdued. His voice was quiet when he spoke, like he was trying not to be overheard by the six men a few feet away. Given the state of the four kidnappers, he probably shouldn't have been too worried.

"I don't like hospitals. Needles. Scare me."

Roy drew back in surprise, or did the best he could while holding the kid. Fullmetal, admitting he was scared of something? What the hell, had his kidnappers drugged him? 

That thought spurred him to action. He set Fullmetal down on the ground and crossed the distance between himself and the criminals in a half-second. He roughly grabbed the bound leader.

"What the hell did you give him?"

"Nothing!" 

Roy's eyes narrowed in fury. He shook the man, knowing the motion would aggravate his burns. "Don't test me. I've had a very bad day. I am one second away from showing you exactly how painful third-degree burns are."

"Alright, alright!" The threat turned him into a babbling coward instantly. "He wasn't talking, so we thought we'd give him something to loosen his tongue, is all. It won't hurt him, I swear!"

"What did you give him."

The man didn't immediately answer. Losing patience, Roy snapped. The resulting scream made him roll his eyes. 

"Colonel, sir," Havoc said, "was that wise?"

"Oh, give me a break. I barely touched him." Roy turned back to the man. "Are you ready to talk yet, or do you need more encouragement?"

"CODA-38, okay? That's it! We didn't give him anything bad, I promise!"

"You gave him _CODA-38?"_ Breda asked, looking horrified. "How is that not something bad? How much did you give him!?"

"I don't know, 20 milligrams, maybe?"

Breda swore. "20 milligrams is enough for a grown man, you idiot! Did you forget the kid doesn't have two of his limbs?"

The man didn't respond, looking away fearfully. Roy looked between Breda and the captive, a frown creasing his lips. He had no idea what CODA-38 was, but given Breda's reaction and Ed's current condition, it didn't sound good.

"Breda, what is CODA-38?" Roy asked. 

Breda turned worried eyes towards Ed's figure, slumped on the pavement. Ed's eyes were still open, which was good - with his head injury, it was imperative he stay awake. In hindsight, it probably hadn't been a good idea for Roy to leave him on the dirty ground of the alley unattended. 

"It's an experimental drug that was first developed a couple of years ago. It's from the same family as some of the more popular sedatives used in the medical field, but tweaked to have different effects from a normal sedative. It's supposed to put the subject in a calm, relaxed state of mind, similar to a mild sedative except that it goes further. It renders the subject more agreeable to questioning, more vulnerable, and more cooperative. It's the closest thing ever developed to a truth serum."

Roy took a deep breath, willing himself to stay calm. "Any side effects?"

"Other than the ones I just mentioned, not that I know of. But as much as he's been dosed with...he'll be out of it for quite a while, Colonel. He'll probably say or do things he wouldn't normally do. It'd be ideal if we could leave him alone until it wears off, but with his injuries, that's impossible."

"Leave him alone? Why?" Roy asked, although he had a bad feeling he knew why. 

"Like I said, it's the closest thing we have to truth serum. It's similar to if he'd gotten himself drunk: his inhibitions are lowered, he'll be more emotional than usual. He's still capable of lying, of course, but he'll _want_ to tell the truth, unless he has a good reason not to."

Roy looked down at Fullmetal and held back a frustrated groan. Of course. Of course the kid would get himself dosed up on honest-to-god truth serum. Of course he'd be injured, so Roy couldn't leave him alone. Of course Al would still be over twenty minutes away. This was just Roy's life, now that he'd gotten himself mixed up with the Fullmetal Alchemist. 

He gave a long, long sigh. "Alright. Call for a med-team; I don't care what Fullmetal says, he has clear head trauma and he's been drugged. And call Hawkeye. We need Al here as soon as possible."

"Understood."

Giving the lead kidnapper one last glare, Roy strode back over to Fullmetal. He stood over the prone figure for a moment to prepare himself. Alright, so he needed to check out that head wound, check for any other injuries, and keep the kid conscious until the med team got there. That was all. It would be fine.

He told himself not to worry. Fullmetal would hardly try and open up to _him._

He nodded to himself. Yeah, what was he worrying about? Fullmetal would never in a million years say anything remotely personal to him. He'd be fine.

With that, Roy knelt down next to Fullmetal. "Fullmetal, are you with me?"

An incoherent groan met his ears.

"I said, are you with me? You should know I don't accept responses like that."

"...off."

"What?"

"Fuck off, bastard," came a weak, slurred voice. 

Roy felt a rush of relief. That was definitely Fullmetal. Seems the drug hadn't affected him as much as Roy had thought it would. 

"Unfortunately for both of us, I can't do that. You're bleeding pretty heavily from your head. I've stemmed the bleeding somewhat, but I wouldn't be surprised if you had a concussion on top of everything else."

"...drugged me," Fullmetal said lowly. "Tried to resist, but...couldn't. Needle."

"It's alright," Roy said, not sure why he said it. "They gave you more than they should've, but it'll wear off soon. I need to check the extent of your injuries, though."

Fullmetal gave a weak scoff and moved to sit up. He swayed as he did so. Roy instinctively reached out to steady him. As soon as he did, he inwardly cursed himself. Fullmetal historically threw fits whenever anyone but Al tried to touch him.

He leaned into Roy's touch.

A strange feeling settled into Roy's stomach. He paused for a moment to dispel whatever emotional nonsense had come up because of that and drew back his hand.

Now that Fullmetal was sitting up, Roy could see that he'd been right to stem the blood coming from the wound on the back of Ed's head. It seemed to be where most, if not all, of the blood was coming from. The blood had matted his hair together and fallen down onto his clothes like rain. 

"What happened to your head?" 

Fullmetal blinked, like it had taken a second for the words to process. He was definitely concussed. Great. 

"I tried to escape, obviously. They weren't happy." Fullmetal turned his head enough to glare at the four captives. "If they hadn't done that, I'd've escaped in thirty minutes. Idiots."

Roy smiled a little, amused as he always was at the kid's mannerisms and for once not caring to hide it. It wasn't like Fullmetal was cognizant enough to notice. 

Then the kid turned to Roy and his face shifted into an expression Roy couldn't identify. "It's not like I normally would've gotten caught by them," he said. "They just caught me off-guard. It'd been a long day, okay?"

Roy looked at him for a second. Of course he'd known that; no normal kidnappers would be able to catch Fullmetal unless he were already off his game. He wasn't sure why the kid found the need to tell him that, much less found the need to justify himself for it.

"I'm sure it had been," he said. He tried to be soothing but doubted it worked.

"I was tired," Fullmetal said, continuing on, "'cause, obviously, sleep. And I hadn't eaten 'cause...Al, you know. And my automail's been needing a repair for awhile but I didn't want to go because _Winry._ You know?"

No, Roy did not know. He didn't know about anything Fullmetal was spewing in his half-conscious, fully-drugged state. And damn him, he wanted to, but twice damn him, he shouldn't, because Fullmetal wasn't even aware of what he was saying. If Roy asked, he'd be taking advantage. 

"Yes, Fullmetal, I know. Why don't you lay back down and...list the periodic table, or something."

Fullmetal ignored him, because Fullmetal had never once listened to anything Roy had ever said. He just kept going. "I took a walk. Al didn't stop me - he wasn't there like he normally is. Makes me feel safe. But he wasn't there...I guess that's why they took me. I wasn't safe anymore."

Roy needed to change the subject. Fullmetal was going to kill him tomorrow when he woke up and realized what he'd said to Roy. Roy shoved down his traitorous curiosity and even more traitorous worry and said, "Al's going to be here soon, and then you'll be safe again."

Fullmetal hummed. Roy hesitated, unsure if he should ask, then said slowly, "Fullmetal...you know what they drugged you with, right?"

He nodded, then blinked a few times as though just realizing what he'd said. He lifted a hand to scratch at his face awkwardly. "Um, yeah. CODA-38, they called it. Said it's like truth serum?"

Roy nodded.

"They thought it'd make me tell them stuff. Morons. Don't think it worked at all. They didn't think so, at least."

That was odd. It was definitely working right now, Roy knew; there was no way a simple concussion was making Fullmetal this free with information he'd kept private for years. What was making it work now, versus back then?

Abruptly, Roy remembered what Breda had said. The drug didn't force truth out; it simply made its user more agreeable to giving it. Fullmetal would never want to give his kidnappers information, so the drug hadn't affected him then. But when faced with people he knew...

Roy swallowed. Shit. This was bad.

"Well, uh, I think it's working now. Don't take this the wrong way, Fullmetal, but you're...saying more than you usually would. I don't want you to say anything you'll regret tomorrow."

Fullmetal considered that for a moment, analyzing Roy with eyes so sharp Roy had a hard time believing he was drugged at all. Finally, he concluded, "I don't care. I'm safe with you."

For a moment Roy thought someone had punched him. He lost all train of thought; then, the only thought that came to him was _Fullmetal's going to murder me tomorrow._ He stared at Fullmetal with eyes far too wide and panicked.

His panic must've gotten to Fullmetal, because the kid's eyes mirrored Roy's once Ed's concussed brain had caught up with what he'd just said. Ed visibly swallowed, but the drug must've won over, as he said slowly, "I am...right?"

And dammit. There was really only one answer to that. 

"You are."

It was a lie, Roy knew, as soon as he spoke it. Not his words' intention, but the actuality of their respective positions. Roy was a Colonel, the Hero of Ishval, and Fullmetal's superior. He had already endangered Fullmetal by bringing him into the same military that had committed near-genocide on a nation of people. He continued to endanger him with every mission he gave him. Roy's countermeasures of cherry-picking missions and readying back-up were nothing more than token measures, designed to alleviate Roy's guilt.

Attempting to alleviate his guilt was a specialty of his, after all.

But Roy also knew that he could not have said anything else because that would have been an even worse lie. He suddenly wished Fullmetal had asked a different question: not if he were safe with Roy, but if Roy wanted him to be. That one Roy could have answered without lying.

Unaware of Roy's internal monologue, Fullmetal had settled back down on the pavement. "Good."

Roy snapped out of himself and remembered what he was supposed to be doing: checking over Fullmetal to see if there were any injuries he'd missed. He started to look the kid over, before realizing something. Fullmetal was on the equivalent of truth serum. For once, Roy could just...ask.

This was the only good thing to have come out of this day. Roy was sure of it.

"Fullmetal, are you injured anywhere?"

Fullmetal gave him an irked look. "My head, idiot."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I can see the blood from here. I meant anywhere else."

"Ye- nope."

Remembering that Breda had said the drug didn't necessarily stop one from lying, Roy gave Fullmetal a suspicious look. "Are you lying to me?"

"Lying? Me?" Fullmetal asked innocently. "'M on truth serum."

"That sounds exactly like something a liar would say."

Fullmetal frowned at him. Roy stared back. It took less than two seconds for Fullmetal to cave - something Roy would be celebrating for weeks to come. "They knocked up my ribs some when I wouldn't tell them anything. I don't think anything's broken, though. Just bruised."

Roy looked at him for a few seconds longer, apparently long enough for Fullmetal to get annoyed and snap, "What?"

Roy smirked. "That's the quickest I've ever gotten an honest answer out of you. We need to give this stuff to you more often, Fullmetal."

Fullmetal didn't snap or yell or scream in response like Roy had been expecting him to - of course not, because the kid lived to make Roy's life difficult. Instead, his expression shrank and his shoulders lowered. Worst of all, he didn't respond.

Roy furrowed his brow, thinking back over his previous words and trying to realize what he'd said to garner such a response, but came up blank. He'd just opened his mouth to ask Fullmetal what had happened when he finally spoke.

"'S not like I _try_ to be difficult," Fullmetal said.

His eyes - startlingly gold, and even more startlingly bloodshot - stared up at Roy with an expression that was hard to decipher. It wasn't quite angry, nor was it sad. It seemed more complicated than that: a little melancholic, a little frustrated, a tad bit guilty. 

After a few seconds' silence wherein Roy tried to find something to say and came up blank, Fullmetal seemed to reconsider. 

"'Kay, maybe that's not true," he admitted. His words were still slurring slightly; Roy had become certain he was concussed. "I piss you off on purpose lots. 'S funny, and you deserve it for bein'...a bastard."

Roy wondered when Fullmetal had started saying that word differently, less a curse and more...fondly. An endearment. 

"But...I..." Fullmetal hesitated, seeming to struggle between the truth the drug was trying to force out and the lie he wanted to keep. 

Roy set a hand on his shoulder, once more not thinking about his actions until it was too late. Yet, once more, Fullmetal did not react in any way other than mild acceptance.

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to," Roy told him quietly. "You're not yourself right now. I don't want you to wake up tomorrow and have regrets."

In the privacy of his own head, Roy would admit to having a selfish stake in that. He didn't want Fullmetal to regret talking and pull away once more. Three times of that - after the riot, after the cave, after the bar - had been enough. He was tired of Fullmetal's inconstancy, of constantly having to readjust and reread his subordinate's every action to decide how to proceed without damaging things further. More than that, he was tired of Fullmetal's distance. 

"No, I-I need to say this." Fullmetal took a breath. "'Member back, like, four months ago, right after Al and I came back from that mission in South, and you got mad 'bout the way we handled things there?"

Oh, did Roy remember. The two boys had gotten into a fight with a rogue alchemist and destroyed several city blocks in the process. Roy's personal favorite part was the moment when the alchemist had disabled Al and Fullmetal had jumped right in front of his brother to save him, getting his automail arm torn clean off in the process. They'd somehow managed to defeat her in the end, but the report had practically sent everyone on Mustang's team into cardiac arrest. Fullmetal had been as unrepentant as always, much to Al's chagrin.

"I find it hard to forget."

Fullmetal laughed nervously. It was probably the first time Roy had ever heard him sound nervous. It made him distinctly uncomfortable. and he was reminded once more of the sheer wrongness of this entire situation. Roy couldn't shake the feeling that he was taking advantage of Fullmetal simply by being there.

Roy considered switching roles with Breda or Havoc for an instant before dismissing the idea. Surely Fullmetal would feel even worse tomorrow after revealing all this to people who had never seen him at his worst, ten years old, degraded into a wheelchair and guilty? 

Or, the thought came to him, maybe Fullmetal wouldn't even say these things to them in the first place. What if he only said these things because of Roy?

Roy forced _that_ thought back into its rightful place of nonexistence. This was not the right time to be entertaining such hopes.

"And you remember," Fullmetal was saying, "that time you lectured Al for not taking care of himself and I, um..."

"...went berserk and yelled at me for five minutes straight about minding my business?" Roy questioned. "Of course. Do you have a point in bringing up all of our worst arguments, or...?"

"And...you know when you..." Fullmetal had fully changed from old man to small child in that moment. He looked even tinier than his small frame suggested, and utterly fragile.

Roy decided that was enough. "Spit it out now, Fullmetal, or you're never going to say it."

Fullmetal jumped a little at the abruptness of Roy's words, but he no longer seemed so fragile. Roy counted it was a win. "Oh, shut up! I'm trying to say something here!"

"Then say it! I'm not going to wait around all day!"

Fullmetal glared at him, but Roy only noted with relief that his intervention, as unconventional as it had been, seemed to have done the trick. Fullmetal looked steadier now, not quite so nervous.

"Should be grateful 'm trying to say this, bastard," Fullmetal muttered sulkily. "'S not like it's easy for me! Least you could do would be to shut up for a minute."

Roy smirked. "I'll shut up now, if you'd like."

Fullmetal glared at him. Then he seemed to remember what he'd been about to say and the nerves returned full-force.

So much for being overdosed on truth serum.

The thought gave Roy pause. If Fullmetal was this apprehensive about telling him something while on more than a full dose of CODA-38, exactly how apprehensive would he have been without it? It was fully possible that Fullmetal wouldn't even have considered saying this without the drug. Roy wasn't sure if that made him feel better, knowing that he was lucky enough to hear it now, or worse, knowing that what he was about to hear was so personal. 

Roy sighed. If dissuading Fullmetal from talking hadn't worked, and irritating him wasn't going to work either, maybe Roy needed to try a different approach. Lord knew he was terrible at comforting people, but he'd have to give it a shot.

His hand was still on Fullmetal's shoulder, astonishingly. Roy took the opportunity to squeeze his shoulder. That was something people did, right? 

"I hope you know that, whatever you're going to say, it doesn't really matter."

Fullmetal gaped at him. "What the hell do you mean, it doesn't really matter!?"

"I mean this." Roy looked Fullmetal in the eyes. "Whatever you say, it doesn't matter because I will not think any less of you for saying it. You listened to all the worst things I've done and you still chose to comfort me. You still chose not to condemn me like so many other people have. I would be the worst kind of human if I judged you for anything you said to me."

"Oh." Fullmetal's voice was small. Again he looked a child. "I...okay. Well. I brought those up because...well, you know I get angry a lot. Sometimes it just kinda happens and I don't really know why, I'm just...angry. Sometimes it feels like it gets out of my control so quickly, I can't stop it."

Roy nodded to tell Fullmetal he could go on.

"'Cept I know why I got so mad those times. It was the same reason I got mad when we were in that cave together."

Now that was a surprise. Roy tried to remember exactly what had happened when they'd been in that cave, exactly what had made Fullmetal so angry that he'd snapped and said he hated Roy. Roy thought he remembered teasing him, and quite a lot, but that was normal. Fullmetal usually took that in stride.

"Oh, I see," Roy said softly, realizing. He hadn't just been teasing Fullmetal. He'd been teasing him about caring about Roy. 

Looking up, he saw Fullmetal had turned away, the tips of his ears red. 

There was a short silence wherein Fullmetal made no move to continue the conversation. He'd clearly realized that Roy had realized and was in no mood to keep talking. Roy swung his jaw and decided to take a calculated risk.

"Ed?"

Roy was fully aware that this time he had no excuse for calling Fullmetal by his name. The other times he could play off as necessity - calling him by his full name during the riot - or surprise - screaming it in horror when Ed had torn open his wound. This time he had neither. This had the potential to backfire on him horrifically, but as Roy had already said, this risk had been calculated. Colonel Roy Mustang's calculations paid off.

Ed turned to face him. His eyes were wider than normal and vulnerable, his pupils dilated past their usual size - either from the concussion or the drug, Roy didn't know. Ed went to speak-

"Brother! You're safe!"

A hulking suit of armor landed on the pavement next to Roy and Ed. The next instant, Al had scooped his brother up in his arms. 

Roy stood and backed up, not sure if he should leave the brothers to their reunion or not.

He wouldn't deny that Al's interruption frustrated him. Just when he'd thought he was getting somewhere with Ed...Ed would more than likely go back to ignoring Roy the very next day. Roy dreaded, hated the prospect.

"Do you have any idea how worried I've been!?" Al was asking Ed. "You were gone for days!"

"I know, Al," Ed said, sounding irritated and looking guilty. He shoved Al off him and turned away from him and towards Roy. "Okay? I was careless, I let them catch me, it's all my fault, _I get it."_

"What?" Al sounded utterly bewildered. "That's not what I-"

"Look, Al," Ed said, quieter now, "You...you know I love you, right?"

"Of - of course I do, Brother. What - what's going on? You're not acting like yourself."

And that was when Roy decided to intervene. Hawkeye and the rest of his team were dealing with Ed's kidnappers, hauling them off to be interrogated. The med team would be there soon. Ed had decided to open up to Roy. Whether by random luck of the draw or Ed's actual decision, Roy didn't know, but it was up to him to resolve the situation, or at least to update Al on it.

"Alphonse," Roy said, bringing the boy's attention over to him. "Fullmetal has shown signs of having a concussion. His kidnappers also confessed to drugging him with an experimental drug known as CODA-38, which has been shown to induce a heightened emotional state, increased cooperation, and elevated honesty."

Al stared at him for a moment before his soulfire eyes somehow darkened. "So, a truth serum."

Roy was not surprised that Al had figured that out. "It's similar, yes. Ed can still lie - he just did five minutes ago actually, when telling me he wasn't injured-" Roy broke off to glare at Ed, "-but he's less likely to, at least."

Al nodded, turning back to Ed. He set a hand on Ed's shoulder exactly how Roy had.

Ed flinched, gave a deep, violent shudder, and threw Al's hand off.

Al moved back and stared at his brother for a few seconds in utter silence. Roy wasn't good at reading the body language of a suit of armor, but Al looked wounded. "Brother?"

"Don't touch me," Ed said quietly, with an undercurrent of something violent and despairing. "It's wrong."

Roy got the uncomfortable impression that he should not be here. He looked around for an escape and found none. The rest of his team had left, taking Ed's kidnappers with them. The med team was still out of sight.

"Brother, I don't understand," Al said. "What's wrong?"

"This," Ed said, pointing at Al. "You! Everything about you Al, it's wrong! And it's all my fault!"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you _mean,_ Ed! How am I wrong? How-"

"Everything!" Ed cried again. His eyes were shining with tears. Roy realized with growing horror that he might be about to cry. "Al, how can't you see it? Your hands - they aren't _your_ hands anymore. You can't even feel the things you touch! You can't sense how cold it is or smell how awful this fucking alleyway smells. You haven't slept in years, and I bet you haven't even rested since I went missing."

Al's eyes had gone sad. "Brother..."

"And you call me _that!"_ Ed hissed. "Brother, like I've ever been a good brother to you. I DID THIS TO YOU! I'm not your brother, Al, and I haven't been since Mom died. I-"

"That's enough, Fullmetal," Roy said. He knelt down in front of Ed, separating the two brothers, and took Ed's trembling hands in his own. "The med team is coming soon and we both know you don't want them to hear this."

Ed looked down at their hands for a moment as though he'd never seen such a thing before. As an orphaned fifteen-year-old ward of the state, Ed probably hadn't. Then he took his hands from Roy's.

"What do you care, bastard?"

Roy was all too aware of Al's presence less than a foot away, watching them intently. He knew that messing this up would result in a grudge Al would hold against him for the rest of his possibly much-shortened lifespan. 

"You already know if and why I care, _Ed,"_ Roy said, pointedly emphasizing the name. "Now stand up, man up, and stop hurting your brother."

Ed looked for a moment like he would rebel, but as Roy said his last words, his expression changed. His eyes flicked behind Roy to Al. He nodded slowly and let out an almost inaudible, "Okay."

Roy stepped to the side, both to allow Ed to stand up and to give him access to Al once more. But Ed turned away from his brother and, thus, towards Roy. The look on his face was nothing short of shame with a healthy dose of guilt. It was a look Roy was intimately familiar with. 

"How long'd you say?" Ed asked him quietly. He swayed on his feet, but Roy didn't want to risk Ed's response if Roy steadied him. From the way Al stayed back, Al didn't want to risk it either. "For the med team."

"Any minute now." Roy paused, then added, "I expect you to behave." 

Ed shuffled his feet and blew out a breath. "Fine, whatever. Stupid fucking needles."

It was the third, possibly fourth time Ed had mentioned needles that day. Roy thought that was a few times too many.

Before he could question Ed on that, a military ambulance pulled up into the alley and a duo of paramedics slipped out. Roy left Ed to the paramedics and approached Al instead. He lingered uncertainly next to the boy for a bit, wondering what to say, when Al beat him to it.

"Thank you, Colonel."

Roy fidgeted. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Uh, for what?"

He got the brief impression that Al was amused by his less than Colonel-ly words before Al sobered. "For finding him. And for...putting up with him. If he was anything like how he was with me, I...well, I think I should apologize to you for him."

Roy grimaced. He didn't think it'd be a good idea to tell Al that Ed had been nicer to him than he'd ever been before, so he opted for a simple, "Thank you, but it's unnecessary. I've dealt with Fullmetal for this long; I know what he's like."

Another flash of amusement from Al. Roy thought he heard Al mutter, "Oh, so he's still Fullmetal for everyone else?" but it wasn't quite clear enough for Roy to call him out on it. 

The two of them were silent for a moment. The paramedics were still talking to Ed, probably trying to ascertain his mental state. Breda would've briefed them on Ed's kidnapping already, so they would know about the drug. 

"You know that Fullmetal didn't really mean what he said," Roy said finally. 

Al looked at him. "He's on truth serum, Colonel," he said flatly. "He meant every word."

"The drug doesn't stop one from lying. And also, it heightens the emotional state of the user," Roy said. "He might have meant it at the time, but he won't when he wakes up and remembers what he said. It's like listening to a drunkard - you can't take the dumbass shit they say to heart. Oh, um...sorry. The stupid stuff they say."

Al giggled. The sound seized Roy with the knowledge that there was a fourteen-year-old boy in that armor, not a hulking man like the armor suggested. "I'm not a child, Colonel. I can take a little bit of swearing. I've heard worse from Ed, after all."

"Yes, and I distinctly remember you telling him off every time."

"But that's because he's _Ed,_ sir," Al said. 

Roy had to admit that Al had a good point there. "But seriously, kid, I've never met anyone who cares for their brother more than Ed does for you. You mean everything to him."

Al looked back towards the ambulance. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "I know. That's why it hurts so much, hearing him say those things. Hearing him say all this is his fault."

The paramedics had somehow loaded Ed into the ambulance. Roy silently marveled; he hadn't heard a single complaint from Ed. They truly did need to give this stuff to him more often. Just, maybe without the part where Ed revealed the entirety of his fucked-up psyche to a completely unprepared Roy. And emotionally scarred his brother.

"Brother's in the ambulance now," Al said. "Come on, Colonel."

Roy automatically started forward with Al. It wasn't until he was right outside the vehicle that he paused and realized what he was about to do. "Alphonse, I don't think Fullmetal will appreciate me being in the ambulance with him."

"Well," Al said huffily, "he definitely won't appreciate _me_ being in there, so he'll just have to deal." 

With that, Al stomped into the vehicle and hunkered down in a corner directly above Ed's head. Roy hesitated, swallowed, and followed. The paramedics looked up, frowned, but said nothing, their eyes zeroing in on Roy's stars. If his rank was the only thing stopping them from kicking him out, Roy thought, he'd take it. 

The drive to the military hospital was surprisingly - welcomingly - quiet. The paramedic who wasn't driving the ambulance bustled about Ed, adjusting an IV that Ed periodically glared at but didn't attempt to pull out. 

They pulled up to the hospital and wheeled Ed out and into the building and the waiting hands of several more doctors and nurses. Roy followed, Al clanking alongside him. A nurse stopped them before they could follow Ed all the way in.

"We're sorry, but we're only allowing direct relations of the patient back. I'll have to ask you to remain in the waiting area until he's ready for visitation."

Roy silently cursed the hospital's visitation policies, and not for the first time - that time Hughes had gotten injured had been a nightmare. He was about to turn away when Al spoke.

"I'm Ed's brother, and the Colonel is his legal guardian. We're allowed to be back there!"

The nurse stiffened in surprise, looking over Roy again. Roy saw the moment the man put the pieces together and realized one, the identity of the patient they'd just admitted, and two, the identity of his commanding officer. 

The one good thing about a military state: Roy could pull rank pretty much anywhere. 

"Of course. My apologies, sirs. Right this way."

Roy and Al followed him back. Ed was sitting up in a bed, a hospital gown exchanged out for the clothes he'd been wearing before. A strip of gauze wrapped its way around his head. Ed was sullenly holding an ice-pack to his ribs with the hand that didn't have an IV line in it. 

As they walked into the room, a doctor looked up. "Ah, Colonel Roy Mustang and Alphonse Elric, I take it?"

Al gave a nod. Roy walked forward and shook the doctor's hand and said politely, "Yes. How is Fullmetal doing?"

"Well, we haven't quite assessed the full extent of Edward's concussion, but he seems to be doing fine. The paramedics stemmed the bleeding from his head wound and we were able to bandage it up without stitches."

That was a blessing. Roy wasn't sure how badly Ed would've taken stitches.

The doctor continued, "There seems to be some bruising around the ribs as well. We don't believe anything's broken, but we'll take an x-ray to make sure. Finally, we aren't sure how this new drug is affecting Edward, but we're putting him on fluids to hopefully clear it out by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Al questioned. "You're keeping him overnight?"

"Yes. Not only does he have a concussion, he's also been given a drug we aren't familiar with. We need to keep him overnight both to monitor the concussion and to make sure any side effects he experiences from the drug aren't injurious to his health. I'll have to ask you to leave shortly; visiting hours are over, and Edward needs to rest."

Al looked like he was going to insist on staying; then he looked at Ed and stopped. "Okay. Goodnight, Ed."

Ed hesitated for so long Roy thought he wouldn't respond at all. "Goodnight, Al."

He didn't look at Al. Al looked at him for a while, and Roy felt the same wounded sense coming from him as he had earlier. Finally Al turned and left. 

Roy looked around for the doctor and came up blank. He must have slipped out just seconds before, presumably to give them privacy. The idea made Roy uneasy, just like this entire situation had. He'd gone, in the span of barely two hours, from being mostly ignored and yelled at by Ed to being told his private neuroses. He was utterly lost. He had no idea how to be...

What? What was he even supposed to be? He didn't know that, either. 

He looked over at Ed. Their eyes met. 

"You'd better behave, Ed," Roy said, deciding at least that would be safe to say. "If I come in tomorrow and hear you've been harassing them, I'll personally tell the barracks kitchen to serve milk for all their meals for the next week."

Ed looked horrified. "You wouldn't!"

"I would. You should know by now, my reputation's important. Can't have some half-pint brat coming in and making me look bad."

Ed huffed. "Fuck you, 'm _not_ a half-pint brat. And who the hell cares about your dumb reputation, anyway?"

"I do, clearly," Roy said, rolling his eyes. He turned and started walking towards the door. "If that's all, the doctor will most likely be coming back soon, so I should leave-"

"Roy, wait!"

Roy stopped. He turned back around. 

Ed had abruptly turned to face the other direction, with his head buried in a pillow and only his hair visible. Roy took a cautious step forward. "Ed, did you-"

"Ye- _no,"_ Ed said, the words so muffled Roy could barely distinguish them. "You did- _not._ You're hearing things in your old age. Bastard," he added as an afterthought.

The supposed insult definitely didn't sound like one this time.

Roy would forever deny that he had begun to smile. "Don't lie, I heard you. You called me Roy."

"So what if I did?!" Ed snapped, pulling his face up from the pillow and glaring at Roy. It was red, and his eyes did not meet Roy's. "Don't pretend you haven't been calling me-"

"Oh, I'm not pretending anything," Roy said, enjoying this far too much. He could count on one hand the amount of times Ed had been embarrassed around him, and was all too amused at being able to watch it now. "I made a choice to call you Ed and I don't regret it. You should be pleased, _Ed;_ we're on first-name basis now!"

Ed let out a strangled sound. "Colonel, I swear-"

Roy fought back a cackle. "No, none of that, Ed," he said in a mocking sing-song, "It's _Roy_ now."

Ed was growing more and more flustered. Roy suspected that, if it weren't for the drug, Ed already would've gone on the same sort of screaming rampage he'd used in the cave all those months ago. Fortunately for Roy, Ed couldn't lie right now, at least to that extent - the few lies he had told were clearly a struggle. Roy could sit back and watch the hilarity that was a red-faced, fidgeting and utterly embarrassed fifteen-year-old kid. 

"I don't want to-" Ed hissed, clutching his head. "-Do want to...no, no I _don't-"_

Roy decided to take pity on him then. Of course Ed would be stubbornly trying his best to lie. He would probably start hurting himself soon if he kept struggling against the drug.

"It's alright, Fullmetal. If you don't want to, you don't have to."

"No," Ed said immediately, "I want to." Then he dropped his face back into the pillow and swore. 

Roy took another step forward so that he was next to the bed. He didn't know for certain what Ed's holdups were regarding this. But Roy was an orphan himself, so he wondered if, maybe...

"I'm not going to leave you."

Everything about Ed froze. Even his breathing went still. Ed picked his head back up from the pillow but kept his eyes on the floor. "I don't know that."

"You do," Roy said, "because I'm telling you."

Ed stared at the ground, stared and stared. "I don't _believe_ that." 

And that, unfortunately, was something Roy could not help. But he decided he would try one more time, the best he knew how. "I'm not your father, Ed."

The breath that had stilled in Ed whooshed out all at once. "I know that, too," he said, but he sounded...relieved, maybe. 

They were both quiet for a second. Then Ed said, very quietly, in a voice that trembled and broke halfway through, "You're better than he could ever be."

 _Oh,_ Roy thought. _Oh._ Then, from the very depths of his heart, _I hope to God he doesn't take this back tomorrow._

"I..." Roy closed his eyes and braced himself. "I'll try my best."

He waited for a moment and heard silence as his only answer. His gut clenched and he raised his head, waiting for Ed to scream at him and tell him the whole thing was a ruse. 

But Ed was finally looking at him. There was something indescribable in his expression: something relieved, disbelieving, afraid, and joyous all at once. He made to speak, swallowed, looked away, looked back, and finally said, 

"Thanks, Roy."

Roy smiled and reached over and ruffled Ed's hair. "Goodnight, Ed." He started to walk out of the room, before pausing. "And apologize to your brother, you hear?"

Ed made an annoyed, grumbling sound. "Fine, whatever. Bastard."

Roy just laughed.

As he walked out of the hospital, the same thought repeated over and over again. _Please don't let him take it back tomorrow._

* * *

When Roy went back to the hospital that morning, it was to find Al already there, talking to Ed. He paused briefly, wondering if they had made up yet, but didn't have to wait for long to find out. As Roy walked in, he heard Al's exasperated voice:

"Brother, drink your milk! If you don't drink it, you have no reason to keep complaining about being-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT A COW COULD STOMP ON THEM AND NOT EVEN REALIZE THEY'RE THERE!?"

"You!" Al retorted. "And what's more, you're _also_ so short Lieutenant Hawkeye could put you in her gun and not realize you're not a bullet until she shot you! So there!"

Ed gave out an undignified howl and threw himself at Al, which Al treated with the same contempt he would have if a two-week-old kitten had tried to claw him. 

Roy couldn't help himself; he started to laugh. As soon as he'd done so, however, Ed and Al froze in their respective positions: Al, sitting calmly in his hospital chair next to Ed's bed, and Ed, upside-down with one foot on Al's helmet, the other flailing in the air, and his arms around one of Al's legs. Ed scrambled off of Al and back onto his bed comically quickly, patting down his un-braided lion's mane of hair - as though that would make it look any less wild - and said in a deceptively casual tone,

"Oh hey, Roy. What's up?"

"Brother, that is _not_ the proper way to address the Colonel!" Al said, sounding scandalized. "Colonel, I'm really sorry for Ed's lack of etiquette."

Roy glanced over at Ed, who was grinning at him, and then back at Al. He decided, _fuck it,_ and said, "You know, Al, you could also call me Roy if you'd like."

He was rewarded with a once-in-a-lifetime view: Al, sputtering and only occasionally managing to string two or three words together, "But I- but that's- I couldn't possibly-" and Ed, absolutely cackling with laughter like an old-timey witch. 

"Oh, but you could," Roy said, now grinning himself. "After all, if I'm doing it with Ed, might as well do it with you, too."

Al's sputtering devolved even further, but when Roy looked at Ed, Ed was beaming at him. In Ed's smile Roy read relief and acceptance and most importantly, assurance. This time, Ed would not repudiate Roy. 

Roy smiled back and decided that for once, he wouldn't worry about tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm absolute trash for truth serum fics so I simply couldn't resist. 
> 
> As for the medical section of the chapter, I'm aware that they wouldn't have had IV lines in the late 1800s to early 1900s (when FMA is set). However, they also wouldn't have had running water or tanks, so obviously FMA is not historically accurate. Given the medical advancements possible through the study of alchemy, I would think they'd have at least gotten IV lines down.
> 
> Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this monster of a chapter. The last chapter will be more bittersweet, so gear up, lol.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side-note before we get started, I've posted a fic called "How Maes's Day Went From Good to Great" that's a spin-off of chapter five. Basically, Maes realizes Roy and Ed are a lot closer than they pretend to be and decides to embarrass them both. If you're looking for some fluffy and/or humorous Roy & Ed fics, just click on the next part in the series for this fic.

_+1_

That day changed everything and nothing. Nothing, in that the Promised Day still came, uncaring of any relationship that had been made, any grain of care between brothers or fathers or sons. Nothing, in that Ed still traded his alchemy for his brother, in that Roy still lost his sight. 

Everything, because those stolen moments here and there - a pat on the shoulder when Ed's guilt sharpened, a listening ear when Ed mumbled out fragments of sentences and curses about his father, a silence when Ed said something too personal and couldn't bear to be heard - all that mattered. It mattered a lot to a boy who had never had a father and a man who had never had a son. 

Yet Ed still left after the Promised Day, took Al as soon as he could walk and went straight back to Resembool. And Roy still continued on at Central, healing and working towards a better world. 

It was in Central that Roy now sat, eyes lifting from his stacks of paperwork to the window outside. His new office as general afforded him a window with a view over a good portion of Eastern Command and, subsequently, East City. The sun shone down just bright enough to be cheery without searing Roy's eyes, and the sky spread over the city bright blue and cloudless. Roy absently rapped his pen against the stack of papers on his desk. He'd had to deal with more cursed paperwork than ever since being promoted, but Roy knew in the end it'd be worth it. All this took him one step closer to becoming Fuhrer.

A knock came on the door: three raps, a loud and quick but measured. Roy furrowed his brow, trying to ascertain who the knocker could be. He didn't have any meetings scheduled, and Riza didn't knock like that. 

"Come in."

The doorknob turned and pushed forward. An all-too familiar figure walked in. "Hey Roy, or should I say, General?"

"Ed!" Roy stood, astonished. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

It wasn't a lie. Ed had returned to Resembool with Al mere days after the Promised Day, both of them eager to see Winry and Pinako as soon as possible. Roy had still been blind then, something he could tell deeply bothered Ed, although he'd said nothing except to encourage Roy to keep moving forward for Ishval.

"Yeah, well..." Ed shrugged, the movement not stiff like it had once been with a shoulder full of automail. "Thought I'd drop by."

Roy took a long moment to look over Ed, aware the boy was doing the same of him. 

It had been two years since Roy had last seen Ed in person, two years since the Promised Day. Surprisingly, they hadn't fallen out of contact. Roy would be the first to say that he was terrible at keeping long-distance contact, and Ed was no different, but they'd made it work. Ed would periodically call him, his voice tentative at first then growing bolder, confident. Roy would send letters, rolling his eyes when Ed's response was nothing short of mocking - _letters are old peoples' communication, Roy, how old are you?_

For the first few months, Roy had fully expected every call, every letter, to be their last. Ed was sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, not part of the military anymore, not even capable of alchemy. Roy and Ed had already been so very different before the Promised Day. Roy had wondered if there were any similarities left. There had been days when Roy waited for a call that didn't come; days when Roy hesitated and decided he'd respond to Ed's letter later, and then later turned into never, until the next letter came.

If they had been any less close before the Promised Day, Roy was now certain, it would never have worked. But somehow it had. Roy had just spoken to Ed a few weeks before, had laughingly responded to an irreverent drawing Ed had sent him titled "Flame Bastard" which featured Roy on fire in a miniskirt. He'd gone to respond with a tried-and-true short joke, only to find that Ed no longer seemed to care much about them. Sure, he'd scoffed and muttered a few choice words at Roy, but the legendary explosions of yore were gone. That more than anything told Roy just how much Ed had changed in the past few years.

Looking at him now, the thought reverberated through Roy. Ed indeed stood taller now, possibly taller than Roy, who had never been extraordinarily tall in the first place. A simple ponytail tied Ed's hair back instead of a braid, and a casual black jacket had replaced the familiar red coat. 

"You look well, Fullmetal," Roy said softly. And Ed did. His arms were covered by the long sleeves of his jacket, but two flesh hands poked out of the ends of them, and Roy could see the muscled tone in them. His face was not longer set in its near-perpetual scowl, but settled and calm. He stood with his chin lifted and his arms free, proud and confident and most importantly, whole.

Roy had seen those changes begin before the Promised Day; had heard them continue in their letters and calls. He'd watched Ed's defensiveness slowly melt away into openness, his cynicism be replaced by wisdom. He'd listened to Ed regale him with the most difficult concepts of philosophy, of chemistry, of languages, and somehow make them seem simple. He'd discussed politics with Ed and found that Ed, for all that he hated politics, was brilliant at it. 

And once again Roy looked at Ed and thought, with a swelling of pride in his chest, that Ed had come so, so far from where he'd begun. 

"Oh, uh, thanks," Ed said a little awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of the other. Fidgeting. The tick had been one Ed had used when he was younger, but it was odd to see it now that both hands were flesh, not automail. "You...you look good too. I guess."

Roy went to say something, but Ed, in his usual determined way, kept speaking.

"Listen," he said, and Roy suddenly noticed the bag slung over his shoulder, "I just wanted...well, I was passing through and I wanted to..."

One thing the years hadn't changed, Roy thought dryly, was Ed's utter inability to properly articulate anything remotely emotional. In hopes to help Ed out, Roy asked, "Is Al with you?"

"Oh. No. He's...well. Both of us decided to head out, I guess. Travel the world, that kind of thing. There's so much out there, you know? There's so much more than just Amestris. This world is _huge,_ Roy. We want to see all of it."

Roy nodded, though he had a slight sinking sensation in his stomach at the knowledge that Ed would be leaving. He told himself to shake it off - it's not like he'd seen Ed in person even when he was in Amestris. Still, the feeling lingered. 

"But not together? Unless Al's still pissed about me giving you the idea to change out his conditioner with mayonnaise?"

Ed snorted. "I mean, last I asked he's still pretty upset about it - he's _so picky_ about his hair, Roy, you wouldn't believe it - but no, he'd still come in. Even if it were just to see Hawkeye. Which, she's still here, right? You better not have abandoned her just 'cause you're some big-timey general now."

"You wound me, Fullmetal," Roy said dryly. "You should know I'd never leave her behind, if just because she wouldn't let me. I told you she's a lieutenant colonel now, right?"

Ed nodded, smiling a little. "Yeah. I'd say good for her, but I can't say that getting promoted in this shit military is something to be congratulated on."

Roy rolled his eyes, used to Ed's stance on the military by now. "You congratulated me on becoming a general."

"Because that meant I'm one step closer to getting my money back once you become Fuhrer, obviously. Do I look like the kind of guy who's rolling in cash?"

Roy made a show of looking Ed over. "I have to say, no. You look like a street bum."

"Oh yeah?" Ed said, eyes flashing. Then his lips turned up in a devious smirk. "Well you look like the kind of bastard who sleeps in _flame-emblem pajamas,_ so get off your high horse while you can."

"Wh-who told you that!?"

"Hawkeye," Ed said smugly, laughing. "Al writes letters to her sometimes."

Roy swore. "I knew I shouldn't have told her!"

Ed sobered. "In any case, Al's on his way to Xing now to learn alkahestry from May Chang - remember her?"

While any meetings Roy had had with her had been brief, Ed had mentioned her more than once over the years in regards to Al. "You mean Al's future girlfriend?"

"That's what I've been telling him, but he keeps trying to be all chivalrous and saying that they 'haven't seen each in years, and might not even be a good fit for each other anymore' and shit. I swear, he regresses at least five years in age every time I mention her."

"Brave words from someone who routinely trips over his own feet every time Winry dresses up nice," Roy said mockingly.

Ed sputtered. "No I don't- who-!?"

"Al," Roy said in the exact same smug tone Ed had just used. "He writes letters to me sometimes, too."

"That traitor, he's never told me that!" Ed muttered. "And for the record, bastard, I _don't_ trip over my feet, Al trips me!" 

Roy examined his fingernails. "A true tragedy, the mighty Fullmetal Alchemist brought so low he's tripped up by his own brother."

"SAY THAT TO MY FACE!"

"I just did."

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"

"I'm afraid not," Roy said with a smirk. "Are you regretting traveling to Central just to see me yet?"

He expected Ed to explode with something along the lines of 'I'd never come just to see you!' but, as usual, Ed surprised him by looking away awkwardly and shifting his feet. 

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't come here because I wanted to say goodbye."

Roy blinked. He wasn't sure there was any other way to take that sentence. 

Apparently reading Roy's expression, Ed's mannerisms devolved further into full-out nervous fidgeting. It had been so long since Roy had seen Ed do that in person that the nostalgia hit him hard. The last time he'd seen Ed act like this was...probably...

_"Hey, bastard."_

_Despite Ed freely calling Roy by his first name when they weren't in public, the insult still seemed to be Ed's preferred method of addressing him. Roy had stopped minding nearly as much once Ed, drunk after winning a bet with Havoc (which Riza had done her best to prevent, and would have, were it not for an equally drunk Roy spurring them on) had told Roy he used to call Hohenheim by the same name but had stopped because he felt "the asshole didn't deserve something that nice."_

_"One day, I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap," Roy said from his bed. "You'd better get ready."_

_A weak scoff. Then a pause."About tomorrow..."_

_The reminder sent a jolt of adrenaline through Roy. Tomorrow. The Promised Day. "We've already discussed our plans, Fullmetal. I'd hope you wouldn't need me to walk you through them again."_

_"I'm not stupid," Ed said crossly. Then he sighed. "What I was_ trying _to say, before you so rudely interrupted me-"_

_"Brother, you literally hadn't said anything for ten seconds," Al cut in from his place between Ed and Roy's beds._

_"-and before my own brother so rudely interrupted me," Ed continued, "was..."_

_He stopped. Roy looked over. It was pitch black, but the faint light of the moon coming in from the window showed him that Ed was glaring up at the ceiling. Fidgeting._

_"Are you in the middle of a stroke, or do you just keep forgetting what you're about to say?" Roy asked dryly._

_He could hear the insulted sounds Ed was making, but he didn't explode like Roy'd been expecting him to. There was another pause, then Ed said finally with great reluctance, "I know you're pretty useless in water, but you better not be useless tomorrow, you hear?"_

_Roy...was pretty sure that was an insult?_

_Before he could make up his mind on how to respond, Ed kept going. "Because if you die tomorrow, I will personally tell the entirety of Amestris how useless you are, Colonel Bastard. Got it? I will ruin whatever bullshit legacy you've tried to build if you pull that on me."_

_Al gave an exasperated sigh. "What he means to say, Colonel-"_

_Roy glared at him._

_"-Roy, is that we want to get our bodies back, and we want to save the world. But we also want the people we love to be safe."_

_"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT TO SAY, AL!" Ed shrieked. "Get that sappy shit out of my face!"_

_Despite the dread and horror weighing him down, despite the paralyzing fear that rang through his ears with every breath, Roy smiled. "Likewise."_

So, if Ed was now doing the same things - fidgeting, trailing off sentences, fumbling words - Roy wondered what this conversation was going to hold, exactly. 

"Al's going to Xing, like I said," Ed started, shuffling a bit. "And after he learns alkahestry, he plans on going through the entire world to learn everything there is about alchemy."

Roy watched him for a few seconds. "And you?"

Ed looked at Roy and gave a small, sad smile. "Well, there's not much point in me learning alchemy anymore, is there?"

"You can still learn the theory of alchemy," Roy said, but already knew how Ed would respond.

"You and I both know it's not the same, Roy. Theory is all well and good, but I've never been a theoretical alchemist. I know theory, and I'm good at it, but to me there's no point in knowledge that cannot be put into practice. I'm a doer, not a thinker. I don't...I can't wander the world searching for what I can never use."

Roy nodded slowly. It was true that there were some alchemists who studied alchemy purely theoretically. But Roy had never been like that. For him, alchemy was a means to an end - his way of serving and protecting his country. For Ed, it was much the same. He had started to learn alchemy purely from curiosity, that was true. But as soon as his mother had died, alchemy had become the way to save her. Then it had become the means of bringing his and Al's bodies back. And now, not only was that end accomplished, Ed no longer had the means to bring any other ends about with alchemy.

"Losing your Gate," Roy said carefully, "it was like losing a part of you, wasn't it?"

Ed had never really talked about his experiences with Truth. He'd referenced it in passing when Roy had brought up his own experience; he'd spoken of the horrors of the aftermath; but never had he detailed exactly what had happened in those times. Now that Roy had gone through that himself, he understood. It wasn't something that could easily be talked about.

"It's ironic," Ed said, scoffing and scuffing a boot against the floor. "I'd just gained back my arm. Losing alchemy was like losing my arm once more. Being able to use it...it made me feel whole, I guess. I didn't have an arm, but I could still fight. I could still protect Al. Now I'm useless."

Roy opened his mouth; Ed rolled his eyes, cutting him off with a raised hand. "Shut it, I know what you're going to say. You've said it before. 'You can still fight physically, you're still capable of using your intelligence,' yadda yadda. And sure, I can, but that doesn't change the fact that if you and I were to fight, you'd char me to a crisp in an instant."

"Not if it were raining," Roy said. A moment later his face scrunched up in a grimace worthy of a Renaissance painting.

Ed stared at him for a moment in absolute shock. Then an ugly, gurgling cackle burst forth from his mouth and he started howling in laughter. "You finally admitted it! Oh my God! You finally admitted that you're useless when it rains!"

"I'm not usel-"

"Useless! Useless!" Ed sang, dancing around an irate Roy in glee. "Just wait 'til Hawkeye-"

"If you ever tell her about this, I swear to God I will _end-"_

"How? All I gotta do is pour a bucket of water on you and you're as dangerous as a two-year-old being potty-trained!"

"Fullmetal, I will _kill you!"_

"I'm not Fullmetal anymore. Have you forgotten? Oh man, already having memory problems at age 30? Tsk tsk, how're you ever gonna make Fuhrer?"

Roy lunged at Ed, who sidestepped with insulting ease, still laughing like a maniac. Roy lunged again. "Just let me get my hands on you, I'll-!"

"Sir, what is the meaning of this?"

As one, Roy and Ed fell deathly still and silent. Roy had one hand on Ed's ponytail, the other lodged around Ed's ribs. Ed had an elbow frozen an inch from Roy's face and his automail foot on top of Roy's. 

"H-Hawkeye," Roy said shakily, not-very-subtly trying to dislodge Ed's foot from his own. "You're earlier than expected."

"Hawkeye!" Ed said, crunching down harder on Roy's foot. "Man, I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

Riza raised an eyebrow, stepping into the office. "I've been well. It's nice to see that neither of you have grown up at all in the past two years."

"See, Fullmetal, she doesn't think you've grown taller, either!"

"Yeah? Well she still thinks you're a five-year-old throwing a tantrum, so shut it!"

"Why don't _you_ try shutting up like the-"

Riza cleared her throat. "I'll be in the hall waiting for you, sir." 

With a final disapproving look, she turned on her heel and left, clicking the door shut behind her.

Roy and Ed looked at each other for a long moment. Then Ed sent his elbow home into Roy's face.

"Ow! What was that for!?"

Ed gracefully dodged Roy again, grinning. "Hmm, old times' sake?"

"You're lucky I'm fond of you, you brat," Roy groused, rubbing at his nose. Ed hadn't hit it very hard, thankfully. He'd probably have a mark for a few hours, but other than that, he'd be fine. "Anyway, the suspense is killing me, Fullmetal. Why are you here?"

Ed clutched a hand to his heart. "I can't believe, after everything we've been through together, you don't want me here?"

Roy stared at him.

Ed deflated, wilted, glared at the fancy carpet. He looked up briefly, opening his mouth, then shut it. Opened his mouth, shifted, shuffled, shut it again. "Well, I..."

"Out with it, Fullmetal!" Roy demanded, getting annoyed. "You should know I don't have the time to sit around all day and wait!"

"I want to go to Ishval with you!"

It was said in half a breath, the words jumbled up fragments of sound crammed together with less space than a packed train. Roy took several seconds simply trying to decipher them.

In the time it took Roy to figure out what Ed had said, Ed had gone back to glaring at the floor, sporting red ears and hunched shoulders. Roy, bizarrely, felt the urge to laugh, and did so. Ed whipped his head up.

"What's so funny!?"

Roy reached over and ruffled Ed's hair and said, "It's just...you were so nervous, I'd thought you had bad news to tell me. But you're telling me you were nervous for _that?"_

"Shut up," Ed muttered. "Stop being so high-and-mighty, you bastard."

The words were said with no real heat, only embarrassment. Roy laughed. "Never. But, Ed, tell me something. Why do you want to work in Ishval? I thought you hated the military."

"Oh, I do," Ed said. "But I also know you're trying to change how much it sucks. More importantly, you're trying to right your wrongs."

"If that's even possible," Roy said heavily. The work had been going on for months, yet nearly no progress had been made. "I won't lie Ed, it's not going well. They aren't exactly amenable to taking help from the same government that slaughtered them only a few years ago."

Ed tilted his head. "Tell me, Roy, why did you let Dr. Marcoh heal you?"

"You know why. To rebuild Ishval and create a better world."

Ed gave a half-laugh. "So damn idealistic still, aren't you. Well, don't tell me you're giving up now! What kinda half-assed job are you doing, to give up so soon? Aren't you the one who once told me to keep moving forward, even if the way forward was covered in mud? What happened to that?"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Roy sighed. "You still haven't told me why _you_ want to be a part of it."

Ed nodded. "Right. It's pretty simple, really. Al and I came up with this new idea. Instead of Equivalent Exchange, we've come up with something better. If someone gives me ten, I don't just give back ten. I add something of myself as well. Al's doing it in Xing. I want to do it in Ishval. I...I'm tired of destroying things. For once, Roy, for once I want to rebuild something."

Ed's eyes burned gold, that fierce gold Roy had depended on for so many years. Yet that, like so many other things, was different, too. Where that fire had once burned selfishly - for himself, for Al, to get their bodies back no matter what - it was now tempered. Selfless. Determined. 

"I know I don't have alchemy anymore," Ed continued. "I know I'll be useless in a fight. But I don't care. I've got two good arms, and I'm using them. Two good legs, and I'll keep moving forward. I haven't fought this long to stay stagnant. I haven't sacrificed so much to be powerless. I can help them. I'm tired of only helping myself."

Roy regarded Ed quietly. He remembered long nights where Ed's nightmares would keep them up for hours, nights where even after the Promised Day he'd get a phone call at four and instantly know who it would be. Those nights had dwindled, dwindled, dwindled to become practically nonexistent. Just as vividly did Roy remember other times when Ed, usually drunk or drugged or exhausted, would quietly confess his wrongs. His guilt. 

Maybe that was why they had never truly detached from each other. Deep down, they understood each other. They always had. Alchemy or no alchemy, military or no military, they held the same guilt, the same wrongs that they wanted, needed to right. 

That was the true reason Roy had invited Ed into the military all those years ago. He had seen what happened when men overcome by their own guilt lost their will to keep moving. He refused to let it happen to Ed. And now, it seemed, Ed refused to let it happen to himself.

Roy nodded slowly. "Very well, Fullmetal. Report to me tomorrow, and we'll get started."

Ed flashed a sharp grin, his eyes a blazing furnace. "You bet, General Bastard!"

He turned, waving a hand goodbye over his shoulder. The light from the window caught the arm - flesh, not automail. Flesh, sturdy and solid and whole. Roy watched Ed leave, an unexplainable feeling catching in his chest. This whole time he had reflected on how far Ed had come - how far detached he was from the angry, hurting, defensive child he had once been. But now, as the last flash of gold hair left Roy's vision and the door clicked shut, Roy found himself thinking of something else. Something that wasn't about how far his kid, his team member, had come.

Roy sat back down at his desk and allowed himself a small, genuine smile.

And he wondered just how much farther Edward Elric would go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know several of you were expecting a dad or a father for the last chapter. But that's simply not realistic, given Ed and Roy's characterizations in the series. Ed had pretty obvious, pretty violent daddy issues, and Roy is far more focused on his career than on having a family. I mean, he can't even confess to Riza.  
> More importantly, though, this ending is important to me in that Ed grows up. He's not that angry, hurting child who needs a father, a guide, anymore. When he needed it, Roy was there, but now Ed's grown up. Will he still need a mentor figure? Of course, and Roy will still be there when necessary. But it's different now, and both Ed and Roy know it. 
> 
> That's what I want all of you to take from this fic: that Ed's come a long way and has even farther to go. And you, my dear readers, are the same. Don't give up, don't stand still. Keep moving forward. May God bless and keep all of you. Thank you for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed this fic. 💖


End file.
